A Spy to the Gods
by Magnus Palmer
Summary: CE73, during a time of war, ex ZAFT soldier Jack Browning enters the scene of espionage at a time when rival intelligence agencies fight for the position of most prized servant to the PLANT Supreme Council. Previously titled 'Cadet Pilot Soldier Spy'.
1. Section One

_Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Seed Destiny or any of its characters. _

_The idea of the story is that it follows the Gundam Seed Destiny series through the eyes of an added character._

_Warning: This fiction contains (or will in later chapters) mature language, violence and adult themes not suitable for children._

**A Spy to the Gods **

**Section One**

I had shut the door, but his muffled screams could probably be heard as I rammed the damp cloth down his throat. His hands and legs are tied to the chair. All he could do was squirm and shake his head around like a man on fire. I push the cloth further and further into his mouth and down his throat.

'Are you going to talk or not?' I ask in a harsh tone. I diverted my attention from the cloth to his eyes to see his reaction. His eyelids are red from crying for his life. His eyes tell me that he is very scared. He breaths frantically through his nose.

I had told him before how he would die, and that after it would be most painful. He said that I wouldn't dare do it, that I was bluffing. I have to make him talk, to let him know that I was very serious about what I was going to do. I put my mouth close to his ear so he can hear me clearly.

'Now you have two options. One; I shove this down further, right down to your stomach, except I hold on to a little piece at the end of the cloth. When you stomach starts to digest it, I pull it out taking out your stomach lining, leaving you here to die slowly and painfully or I'll make it quick if you tell me what I need to know after your stomach lining is removed.' His breathing becomes somewhat more relaxed as he becomes aware of the realisation of what I'm telling him. 'Two; you tell me now and you'll live. If you want my opinion, option number two seems to be the better choice for your own well being.' His eyes start to droop; I grab his head and shake it back and forth and look right into his eyes.

'Hey are you listening, you are going to die if you don't tell me!' His eyes widen. 'Now are you going to tell me or not?' He nods his head. I pull the wet cloth from his mouth in one quick motion. I step back as he vomits on the floor below him. Staining his t-shirt, jeans, and trainers in the process.

'Well?' I ask as he coughs and sputters the last of the grouse vomit out of his mouth between deep breaths.

'I don't know exactly who is going to steal the new mobile suits.' He speaks finally. Not satisfied with his answer I step forward intending to put the cloth down his throat again.

'Wait, wait, wait!' he stutters out as he cranes his head back in fear. 'I don't know their names or their faces, I only recruited three assets who work on the base!'

'Who?'

'Two ZAFT guards, they're to help the pilots gain access to the base.'

'And the other?'

'A technician, the one who told us of the new models in the first place.'

'What's his name?'

'_Her_ name is Gaynelle Greninger. She's a civilian contractor working on the project.'

'When are the snatch team going to arrive? Are they here already?'

'They arrived today.' He nods.

'Where are they now? On the base?'

'Maybe, they were supposed to start the operation from the moment they arrived so they'd already be half done.' I figure that would be enough. I step away from him and reach into my coat that was left on the table. I fetch out my mobile phone and dial the number for Section. I put the phone to my ear waiting for an answer from the other end as I put my coat back on. Someone answers the phone.

'OS Four, Liz Ryan speaking,'

'Hey Liz, it's Jack. Listen, I've found and interrogated Rehfield. He says that the operation to steal the new model mobile suits starts today.'

'Wait, slow down, you said today right?'

'Yes, the operation is planned to start today, Rehfield thinks that it could even be in progress at this very moment, you've got to alert security at the base.'

'Jack, Chairman Dullindal is visiting the base today along with Representative Athha from ORB.'

'What?'

'Geez… Didn't you read yesterdays report?' She asks. I hadn't.

'Doesn't matter! Tell them to get the Chairman out of there at least.'

'Do you want me to dispatch a team to collect Rehfield?'

'Yeah, you know the address from the files IT decrypted. I'm going to the base now, let security know I'm on my way so I won't have to deal with any bullshit from their guards.'

'Okay Jack.'

'Is Stoke in Section yet?'

'Yes, but he's on the line with Sieren at the moment.'

'So he doesn't know that I've followed up a lead?'

'He doesn't even know that IT have decrypted the files.'

'What the hell is Sieren playing at? Just bring Stoke up to speed when he's finished with his chat.'

'Sure thing.'

'Oh, one last thing Liz.'

'What's that?'

'I want you to run up a name; Gaynelle Greninger. She's a civilian contractor working on the mobile suit project. She's the one who informed Rehfield about the project. Get someone to find her and bring her in.'

'Gotcha.'

I hang up the phone, and put it back in my coat pocket. I look back to Rehfield. He seems to have relaxed now. Damn does he stink though; I'd feel sorry for the guys who are going to have to collect him.

'Someone's coming to collect you in a little while. Don't put up too much resistance, they'll probably let you have shower before they throw you in a cell. You smell bad enough as it is.' I smirk. I close the door to the room behind me not really listening to his muffled shouts of how much of a bastard I am. I make my way down the staircase to the outside. My car is parked on the side of the road.

It'll be about twenty to thirty minutes to get to the base from where I am now. I'll have to drive fast and hope that the traffic isn't busy. I open the car door; I hadn't bothered to lock it, I hadn't seen anyone in this abandoned warehouse district. I sit in the drivers seat and turn the engine on.

The man back there was an intelligence agent working for the Earth Alliances Central Directorate of Intelligence (CDI), a collaboration of various intelligence services from the nations of the Earth Alliance, and as always the Atlantic Federation's Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) running the show. After the peace treaty between Earth and PLANT, the general public were under the impression that all was relatively right with the world. Working for the Domestic Intelligence and Security Centre (DISC), will tell you differently. Earth and PLANT were now fighting a 'Cold War' of information, espionage, and spies. Each side has been screwing the other over continuously for the past two years, in the name of peace. But the Earth Alliance stealing some new model mobile suits from ZAFT in an operation on this scale could lead to another war.

One month ago the National Defence Council's Secret Services Centre (SSC), the foreign intelligence service for PLANT, had turned a CDI officer, one of their spymaster's, Eric Dalby. Dalby was the top Intelligence Officer responsible for running CDI agents in Lagrange Point 4 and had been keeping DISC and SSC busy for the past 2 years. SSC got him when they found out that Dalby's daughter was a first generation coordinator, and was living secretly among the naturals on Earth. SSC contacted Dalby warning that if he didn't turn they were going to expose the information to the Earth press. Imagine that, the daughter of a CDI, or more specifically a CIA Officer, is a coordinator. Not only would his career burn, but also with Blue Cosmos searching high and low for easy targets on Earth, it would be quite an opportunity for them to gun down a helpless six-year-old girl, just because she's a coordinator. Like any dedicated father he put his daughter first, and turned himself over to SSC.

In Dalby's debrief he happened to mention a upcoming CDI operation to steal the new model mobile suits being built at Lagrange Point 4, Armoury One. This information was passed to the National Defence Committee, who deemed the operation a threat to the peace treaty and to the PLANT security. The task to prevent the operation fell on the laps of the DISC's Operational Section Four (OS Four), a small department responsible for counter intelligence and counter terrorism in the newly reconstructed Lagrange Point Four. Most of these colonies had been heavily damaged in the war three years before, but after the end of the war some were reconstructed as PLANT type colonies.

Problem was, when Dalby turned himself over, this operation was still in the planning stages with no definite time or date for when it was to be executed. However Dalby had spilled the location of a CDI officer codenamed Sona, who would know. Unfortunately, Sona was killed resisting arrest. We did recover a computer, however most of the files were encrypted. This morning the IT department finally decrypted some of files of which could be of interest, they mentioned a name and an address of what is thought to be one of Sona's agents, called Rehfield. Not knowing whether or not this agent would know anything about the operation I followed it up anyway. I went to the address on the decrypted files. It turned out to be an office in the top floors of a warehouse complex. There I found Rehfield, fast asleep on a bed set on the floor of the office.

Damn, how much further until I reach the base? Traffic is much worse then I had anticipated. It's going to take me longer then I thought. The phone rings. I take it out of my pocket and look at the caller ID. It's Section calling. I answer the phone.

'Liz, have you contacted the base security?'

'I haven't had the chance, we've just received word that the general alarm has been sounded on the base.'

'Damn, they must have started the operation already!'

'You better get down there quick, it sounds like the shit has hit the fan.'

'Has Stoke finished with Sieren yet?'

'Yeah, he wants to speak to you.'

'Good, put him on.'

'Jack.' Says an aged and gravely voice at the other end of the phone.

Nigel Stoke, Director of OS Four. He's a reasonably intelligent person in his early forties. For a boss he's not too bad, Stoke has been in the intelligence business for many years starting out in his mid twenties, so we can rely on his experience, especially when it comes to Blue Cosmos. For as long as I've known him he's had a real anger and hatred of the terrorist group, not that I can blame him. Rumours around Section say something happened to him whilst he was doing some work with the SSC on Earth during the war. Not that I knew the details, I always thought that it went his hatred went much deeper to a personal level, then the reasons the masses hate them for. This was something that we perhaps had in common on a certain level. He must had read my work record of when I was in Special Forces, and a certain botched operation.

'Nige', has Liz briefed you?'

'Just now, the moment the base alarm was sounded I ended the phone conversation with the Director General, I just hoped the it could had been ended in better circumstances.' He didn't chuckle. 'You're on your way to the base now aren't you?'

'Of course, Boss.'

'Cut the sarcasm!' he snaps lazily, saying it as if he's fed up. 'If the new models are already airborne, just get Chairman Dullindal to safety, and call us with a sit rep. Okay?'

'Right. Oh, I hope your not too pissed off that I didn't tell you I followed up a lead?'

'I was wondering why you weren't in this morning.'

'I was. I left before you arrived though, I've been in Section waiting for IT to extract the information from Sona's computer, I couldn't wait around for you to arrive, so I _borrowed_ a shuttle to Armoury One.'

' "Borrowed"? You mean stole?' He asks.

'It was one of the Section's shuttle's, it's still in good nick.'

'Fine.' He huffs. 'Just get to the base ASAP. Oh and don't worry about pissing off without telling me, I would've done the same in your position.'

'That makes me fell a little better, I'll call you back.' I hang up the phone and bury it in my jacket pocket again. The light changes, as I lift my foot off the clutch the car lunges forward as I start off in second gear.

Lately, Stoke has been having many calls from the new Director General of DISC, Kevin Sieren. I don't know much about Sieren apart from that he lacks a proper intelligence background; from what I had heard he had sat behind a desk most his years in the ZAFT Intelligence Bureau, trying his best to figure out where the enemy is hiding on a map. To me he seems more like a politician, looking to rise up to become Chairman of the National Defence Committee. Although I can't make too much of a judgement of him, since he is yet to prove himself as a leader, I don't like the first impressions of him though. He's been calling Stoke on the phone everyday this past month, probably reminding Stoke how he would like the job done. In the event that something goes wrong, Sieren can tell the Committee how he reminded OS Four how to do their jobs, so we get the sack, and not Sieren. How can he expect us to do our job when he's keeping such a tight and short leash on us? I wasn't entirely happy of not informing Stoke about the Rehfield lead first, but I couldn't wait, I had to go right away. More to the point, what would Stoke think of me using an old trick of the Siberian Gulags to get the information from the agent? I'm sure Rehfield would be complaining to the guys going to collect him all the way back to Section about how he was mistreated.

The base is now in view. Through the windscreen I see the main gate. Beyond that are plumes of smoke rising. I'm too late.

I pull the car up to the main gate of the base. The base had been hit hard. From what I could see, most of the storage hangars had been destroyed. Amongst the panic of ZAFT soldiers rushing to help their comrades anyway they can, a lone soldier toting an assault rifle and sporting a Kevlar helmet, knocks on the car's side window with his knuckles. This must be the gate guard. He looked like he was in his mid thirties. His skin was wrinkled and slightly tanned. A shadow, formed from the front rim of his helmet, covered the top half of his face. The green uniform of a ZAFT regular showed the early stages of a growing beer belly, I suppose that is to expected for someone whose job description that involves sitting on a chair, drinking no more then 50 cups of coffee a shift, busting civilians for glancing at the perimeter fence, and then having a big piss up all night every night. I wind down the window.

'What do you want here _kid_?' he spits out the word 'kid'.

'I'm a…' I start to say.

'Save it!' he snaps, cutting me off from finishing my sentence. 'We ain't got the time to deal with journo's so just turn that car around and get your story from the official press conference,' he spits in his accented drawl. He tilts his head up slightly and looks down on me.

'I'm not a journalist. I'm an officer with the DISC!' I shout back at him. There was still the sound of explosions and fighting nearby.

'DISC… DISC?' he repeats to himself, looking slightly confused as if he was searching his memory for what the acronym stood for.

'Domestic Intelligence and Security Centre!' I remind him.

'Yeah right! Get out of here.' He orders. Shit, even Rehfield was more helpful then this, and he was working for the other side! He seems to be talking down to me as if I was something he stepped in, and would want to wipe off as soon as he could.

'I haven't got time for bullshit! I'm here to ensure the safety of Chairman Dullindal, who was visiting the base today.'

'How do you know that kid? That information is strictly classified!' He says trying to sound as if he knew something. He didn't. If I was a bloody Journo' like he said I was, he would've just gave away valuable information.

'For fuck sake!' I shout at him. 'I already told you I'm a field officer for the DISC's Operational Section Four!' He narrows his eyes at me.

'You talk to me like that again once more sonny and I'll throw you in a cell for the rest of the day!' He shouts.

'I suppose you were the guard who let them in?' I counter. His face scrunches up as he takes a deep breath. He's had enough.

'Alright that's it!' he shouts at me as he grabs the handle to open the car door. 'You're go… ah!' He never finishes his sentence as I throw the car door open, impacting against his stomach and torso. I step out of the car quickly; I feel a sharp pain in my ribs as they knock against the door in the process. I throw a punch into the guards face before he can react, the top of my closed fist just brushing the rim of his helmet. As he stumbles back I grab the butt of his rifle that is attached to a sling worn across his chest, and strike that butt into his face. He stumbles back further and eventually lands on his arse. I move back into the car, and put my foot on the accelerator as I close the car door leaving the guard on the floor in pain.

I look into the right wing mirror seeing a small group of ZAFT guards crowding over the disorientated guard. Whilst another chases after me on foot yelling something along the lines of 'Come back you son of a bitch!'

Looking past the car windscreen again, the base had been hit very hard. Destroyed Mobile Suits and their parts littered the open areas. Storage hangers were now in ruins. Driving was difficult as the road was damaged. The car jumped slightly as the wheel hit a dent in the road. Out of the corner of my eye I spot the orange and red cloudlet of an explosion high above the base. I stop the car for a moment, to take a closer look. The explosions were from a Mobile Suit battle taking place. That definitely means they've got at least one of the new models. I gaze at the battle above like a curious child. Watching the beams trace cut through the air, makes me think back to when I was a mobile suit pilot for the Schanz team. I regain my senses back to reality from the daydream. I remind myself to remain focused at the objective at hand. I drive on.

Where the hell could Chairman Dullindal be? I should try finding someone in charge that could have a clue where the Chairman is. Ideally a Commander class of some sort, they probably won't piss me about like that guard did.

After a while, I catch sight of a few mobile suits standing sentry, I figure that would be the best bet. As I get closer, the area around the mobile suits is clustered with tents, vehicles, and green uniforms. Perhaps this is some sort of temporary command centre. As I get closer, I slow down and gradually bring the car to a halt about a hundred or so metres short of the command centre, all under the watchful eyes of a green Zaku mobile suit. I exit the car and walk forwards at a quick pace to one of the tents. Two green ZAFT soldiers each armed with a sub-machine gun approach me.

'Hey!' he chokes out. 'Who are you?'

The two soldiers look quite young, as young as me almost. They seemed to be a little shaken. There green uniforms are dirtied grey, probably from the dust and tarmac. I hope they don't give me the trouble I had with the gate guard.

'I'm an officer with the DISC.' I tell him as I fetch out my card from my coat pocket, and flash it at them. One of them snatches the card from my hand and looks it over. The other has his gun pointed at me, eyes focused on me, ready to shoot. Strangely I don't feel uneasy with him pointing that gun at me. I'm getting too used to it. I needn't really have to worry; they'd sooner arrest me then shoot. The soldier nods as he hands the card back over to me

'Alright, what do want here?' he asks. The other soldier lowers his weapon.

'Who's the commanding officer here?'

'Commander Gregov, he's over there.' He says as he gestures with his head to an open white tent fifty or so metres behind him. In the tent was a number of green uniforms being ordered about one guy in a black uniform. That must be him.

'Alright, thanks.' What can I say; he deserved it. I walk past the two soldiers, who have gone away to do something more productive with their time. As I get closer I can start to make out some of what Gregov is saying over the noise of explosion as combat.

'Take a team together and head off to hanger twelve or what's left of it, check the area, see if anyone's still alive or not, if so radio in and I'll send some help okay?' I hear him bark to a green uniform. He pats the uniform on the back and nudges him in the general direction of where he wants him to go. The uniform scampers away. Gregov notices me. He looks at me in confusion for a moment, then his expression changes to annoyance.

'What do you want here?' he hisses at me.

'I'm a field officer…' I begin as I fetch out my card yet again '…with the Domestic Intelligence and Security Centre.' I tell him. His expression becomes friendlier.

'If you want to debrief me, you're going to have to wait, I've got a right cluster fuck on my hands here, besides I haven't got a clue myself what's really going on.' He says as he shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head. Fair enough on his part, it does look like he's got his hands full, but I still need to find Chairman Dullindal.

'It's not that, Chairman Dullindal was visiting the base today, do you know where he is?' I ask.

'He was here a few moments ago, I think he's on the Minerva, he should be safe there.'

'The Minerva?' I ask.

'Big ship, over there.' He points to the large ship behind him in the distance. I look over there. It seemed to still be docked. A large green leg, probably from a Zaku, obstructed my view of the Minerva for a moment. The Zaku looks like it's heading over to board the Minerva.

'Alright I need to get on the Minerva then.' I tell myself.

'I'd suggest you hurry, she looks like she's about ready to launch anytime soon.' He tells me.

'Okay, I'm going over there now. Call them and tell them to wait 'til I arrive.'

'Alright.' He complies by grabbing a phone of some sort. I turn my back to him and make my way back to the car.

I start to jog, passing and dodging those who happen to be in my path. I get back in my car, and drive off in the direction of the Minerva. As I get closer to where the walkway connects from the dock to the Minerva, two more ZAFT guards stand watch just at the entrance to the walkway, gesturing me to slow down with their hands… and their guns. I slow the car down to a halt. I exit the car, bidding my fair well to it, as this will probably be the last I'll see of it. I make my way over to them, fetching out my card, yet again. Their eyes and guns follow my every move, as I walk towards them.

'I'm a field officer with the Domestic Intelligence and Security Centre.' I tell them as I flash them the card. 'I need to speak with Chairman Dullindal. Commander Gregov told me he was on the Minerva, yes?' As I get closer one of them puts their hand in front of me.

'Sorry, I can't just let anyone on, even if they are DISC. I need to ask permission from Captain Gladys.' He tells me. I put the card back into my pocket again.

'Well then, get the Captain on the line and ask if I can?' I ask of him. He nods and presses the PTT button on the radio as he speaks into a throat mike.

'Minerva security, this is dock security. I've got a guy here who's identified himself as an officer with the DISC, he's requesting to board the Minerva.' He waits a moment for a reply. 'Oh come on Marv'! You know; the Domestic Intelligence and Security Centre!' He barks into the mike. 'Just get the Captain on the horn, and ask her if he can board or not?' I didn't know what the reply was; I wouldn't have been able to hear it. 'Thank you.' He says. I couldn't help but smirk.

'That Marv' is a right dumb shit.' The other guard jokingly informs his colleague. They both give off a small snicker.

'Damn right he is!' He agrees.

These two seem more armed and ready then the previous guards I've come across in the past few minutes. Though wearing the same ZAFT green uniform as the others, and armed with the standard issue sub-machine guns, they're also wearing a black assault vest that fits snugly across their chests. The vests also carry a pistol in a cross draw position. As well as those, they're also wearing throat mikes. I come to the conclusion that these guys are with Fleet Protection Group. Made up of about hundred or so experts in close quarters battle, these guys are given various jobs, mainly involving in the defence of the ZAFT space fleet and also act as boarding parties to stop smugglers.

'Sorry for the wait.' He apologises, breaking me from my thoughts. 'Marv', the guy on the other end of that radio, is a moron.' He grins.

'That's very reassuring.' I say to him sarcastically. They both grin and snicker again.

The two seemed to be in their early twenties. However they didn't look like rookies. I could tell by their eyes, that they were experienced. They had probably been in the war two years ago. Either that or they were very well trained. Maybe even current or ex-Special Forces. Usually I'd be very sceptical of such youngsters in Special Forces, but who am I to complain, I was only eighteen when I completed my four months of intense training at the Jakarta Special Forces Training School during the war. The ZAFT Military Academy is even allowing fourteen and fifteen year olds apply, since the start of the war in CE70. Before, candidates had to be sixteen and nine months before they could attend the Academy.

'Alright, you can go on.' He says stepping aside allowing me room to pass. 'They'll be someone to meet you on the other end of the walkway. Are you armed?'

'Yeah, just a nine mil' pistol though.' I tell him.

'In any case, when you meet Marv or whoever it is, hand your pistol over to him.' I frown at the prospect of being unarmed. He sees my reaction. 'Relax, you'll get it back, once you're properly cleared.' He assures me. I nod. 'You better get moving, son. She's just about ready to take off, they're waiting on you.'

'Cheers.' I thank them.

'Oh, by the way… we'll look after your car for you.'

'No need, it's not mine.' I don't see their reaction in their faces as I have already ran past them and down the walkway as fast as my legs can go, the other end seemed to be about a few hundred metres away. My run became a sprint.

Having my gun taken away was not a prospect I liked, especially by this 'Marv' person. I've been too used to being armed for the five months or so. All employees of the Centre are required to have weapons training, but there were strict guidelines to when weapons could be carried. When I was transferred over to OS Four, whose activities are much more serious and dangerous then the rest of the Centre, apart from the other three Operational Sections, I was required to carry a weapon with me at all times, which I had no qualms with, however it feels like a necessary item of clothing I must put on every morning. Without it I'd feel naked and insecure.

I reach the entrance to the Minerva in time. Panting, trying to get as much air into my lungs as I can with each breath I take. My fitness level has gone down quite a bit since I left Special Forces. Sitting on my arse at a desk, reading pages and pages of intelligence and terrorism threat assessments for days and weeks doesn't do much for fitness. As I looked at the entrance, another man dressed in a standard ZAFT green uniform was there to greet me.

'Welcome to the Minerva, sir. I'm Myles Braner, head of security on the ship.' He said as he saluted me. Out of breath still I just nodded. 'Please get inside sir, we're just about ready to launch.'

I step inside the ship, gazing around at the interior. The walls of the corridor are painted a grey, blue colour. Behind me, two other ZAFT regulars closed the entrance behind me.

'Sir, do you have any weapons on you?' he asks, I don't really take in what he said first time, so he asks again. 'Are you armed, sir?'

'Yeah.' I reply

'Okay, could you please hand over your weapons and firearms please?'

'Alright, I only have a nine mil' pistol anyway.' I tell him as I undo the belt on my jeans and slide it out of the first two loops to the right.

'Don't worry, sir. This is just temporary until you get cleared properly.' He states to me as I then slide the holster carrying my pistol off the trouser belt. I hand the holster over to his hand. I put my belt back again.

'Thank you, sir.' He hands the pistol over to a colleague behind him. 'Now if you would just like to follow me please.' He says leading my down one of the corridors.

Braner looks to be in his late twenties, he has a short military grade hair cut, complemented with a groomed moustache under his nose. He looks well built and in good shape. Not bad for someone serving on a ship. Too much sitting ruins people's bodies as I've just found out. That's why I think mobile suit pilots are very unfit and in all honesty, wimps in real combat. Take that pilot from a mobile suit and put him or her, as there has been an influx of female ZAFT mobile suit pilots in the recent months, on the ground, they wouldn't last long. After a minute or so of following Braner through the maze of corridors that seem to lead to nowhere. I ask, 'Where are you taking me?'

'The ship is in the process of being launched and once out of the colony, we're expected to engage in combat with an enemy vessel.'

'That doesn't really answer my question, I thought you were going to take me to Chairman Dullindal or to the bridge?'

'Sorry, but the Captain only granted you permission to board the ship, not to have a nice cup of hot coffee on the bridge with the Chairman and discuss the meaning of life for the next half hour.' I scowl at his back, as he continues walking on. 'Ah, we're here.' He opens a door to what looks like an empty crewman's quarters. 'I suggest that you please stay in here for the duration of the combat please.' I just nod again. I enter the quarters uneasily. I have no qualms with that, best be out of the way of the crew. A mysterious man in civilian clothing on a military ship amongst uniforms tend to stand out, I don't want to attract attention to myself.

'Will I be able to make a call?' I should get in touch with Stoke and let him know he can put his mind at rest over the safety of Dullindal, for now.

'Not while we're in combat, sir.' He exits the room and closes the door behind him. Probably locked it too, but I can't be bothered to check it. I could always call Stoke with my mobile phone, however doing that on a ship in combat would constitute as an unauthorised transmission, which security will be able to detect, and land me in more trouble then I'm already in now.

With nothing else to do at this very moment in time I sit on one of the two beds, I take my coat off and throw it on the other bed on the opposite side of the room. I lie back and stare up at the grey ceiling. I close my eyes and drift off into the dreams and nightmares of my past.

_Endnote: Well that's the Section One done and finished. I hope you enjoyed it. Read and review, constructive criticism welcome. Thank you for spending your time to read this. Note that as of 28/06/05 Section Two has been merged into Section One. So now Section Three is now Section Two, Section Four is now Section Three etc._


	2. Section Two

_Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Seed Destiny or any of its characters. _

**A Spy to the Gods **

**Section Two**

I wake up to chime of a bell. I open my eyes; my vision is blurred slightly. I regain my senses one at a time. I breathe in the air around me, and sit up. I rub my eyes of any sleep in them. I hear the chime again.

'Yeah, just a minute.' I reply to whoever is on the other side of the door. I lift my weight up off the bed, and proceed towards the door. I rub the back of my neck, as I feel for the 'open' button. The door automatically slides open.

'Ah… Did I wake you?' he asks. I look up at my awakener. It's Braner, still dressed in his green uniform. I take in a deep breath through my nose, thinking of a reply.

'Yes you did.'

'Oh… sorry about that sir. Just thought you'd like to know, we're at condition yellow.'

'And that means?' I ask of him, as I rub the growing stubble on my face.

'You can call your boss.' Best news I've heard all day.

'Great.' I walk to the other bed where my jacket is laden. I reach into one of the pockets intending to get my phone.

'Sorry sir, but you're going to have make it through our line.' I nod and take my hand out of the pocket. I put my jacket on. 'Besides…' he continues. 'Captain Gladys would like to have a word with you as well as the Chairman.' He finishes. About damn time!

'Does that mean I'm cleared?' I ask. Hoping I get my sidearm returned to me. I feel at my right hip, where my pistol should be.

'Sort of. But if you want your gun back, the Captain will have to clear you first. Ready?'

'Yeah.'

'Let's go.' He gestures with his head to follow him. I nod again, and step out of the quarters. Again I follow him through the maze of corridors in silence. At this moment I just notice the slight lack of gravity under my feet, but I can still walk on it. Damn I must be really tired to have just realised this.

'How long was I out for?' I ask. He continues walking ahead of me; he turns his head so that I can see half of his face.

'Only a few hours. You must have been pretty tired to drop off just like that and not be woken by the battle.' He tells me jokingly.

'What battle?' I ask feeling ignorant of the current events of today.

'I don't know much of the details.' He shrugs. 'I'm sure The Captain will explain it all to you.' He assures me

'Alright.' I sigh. After a few more minutes we pass two 'Red Elites', both of them looked like kids. The first barges past, his red eyes filled with anger, he obviously had something on his mind to bother asking who I was and what I was doing here. The other red uniform glided past me without even a glance at me. Not that I minded them ignoring me, I've had enough of explaining to people who I am for today. Except maybe for the Captain, but that's only to make progress.

'Hey Myles!' Another red uniform, calls from down the corridor. She approaches Braner. 'Who's the civilian?' she asks him. I roll my eyes. I'll allow Braner, or Myles do the talking for this one.

'This guy? He's an intelligence officer.' He replies. The girl in the red uniform looked quite young. She must be about sixteen or seventeen years old, I guess. Her hair is a light purple, and quite short for a girl, being no lower then her shoulders. Her eyes were full of a joy and optimism that perhaps I once had. Funnily enough, she also wore a pink mini skirt with the red tunic.

'Wow! First Athrun Zala finds his way aboard this ship and now a spy has as well.' She says excitedly. I conclude that her surprise and interest is genuine, she can't be that good a liar, and she's definitely not being sarcastic.

'Athrun Zala?' Braner wonders. Probably searching his memory for the name. I search my own memory as well. It hits me. Zala; former Chairman of the PLANT Supreme Council, killed at the second battle of Jachin Due. This must be his son. I don't really know much about him, only bits a pieces of information one picks up from time to time. Last I heard was that he went into hiding since the end of the war about two years ago. Rumours floated around spelling out that he was believed to be living in the ORB Union.

'Yeah, he came in with Representative Atha!' she grins. That would make the rumours true then.

'Really?' He asks. I wasn't sure if he was really curious or whether he was being sarcastic, he was masking it well. From where I was standing the next open entrance to the left looked as if it had some vending machines in it. While these two talk, I'd like to get a drink of some sort.

'If you two want to talk here for a while, mind if I go and get a coffee?' I ask Braner. He can at least grant me that.

'Not at all, just don't be to long.' He's one to talk. I make my way between the chatty couple. Just as I reach the entrance I turn around to face Braner.

'Same goes for you as well remember.' I remark, whilst smirking. As I turn around to enter the room. I bump into someone.

'Sorry,' is my automatic reply. I look down to see a petite young girl, with two pigtails in her red hair, dressed in the standard ZAFT green uniform. Her eyes lock on to mine. They are a grey, somehow similar to the 'Red Elite' girl, but with a sense of uncertainty and innocence in them.

'Oh I'm sorry,' she apologises whilst still looking into my eyes. Realising that I'm still in her way, I step to the side.

'Sorry.' I repeat. She walks past me and towards the 'Red Elite', halting to the purple haired girl's side. She listens in on the conversation between the two. I walk into the room, scanning the various vending machines that were built into the walls of the room, looking for one that might serve a coffee. In the corner of my eye I notice someone sitting on one of the long seats in the far left corner of the room. Unusually, he was dressed in civilian attire. Could he be the Athrun Zala that was the hot topic of discussion just behind the wall? I try not to think much about it as I make a beeline for what looks like the coffee machine. Let's see what the selection is then; tea, coffee, black, white, without sugar, one sugar, two sugars, hot chocolate, creamy, extra creamy. Black with two sugars, I select. As I wait for my drink, I ponder on whether that civilian behind me is Athrun Zala or not. He has the shoulder length dark blue hair and green eyes that the profile photos showed about two years ago.

'Intelligence Centre?' Someone gasped in a high-pitched squeak from within the corridor. It must be one of the girls, most likely the one I bumped into just a moment ago. I'm going to have to give Braner a lecture on how to keep some things to himself. Tell them once, don't gossip, soon enough the whole bloody ships going to know. The machine beeps, my coffee is ready. I take the plastic cup from out the machine, looking into the blackish liquid. I take a sip; it burns my lips and tongue slightly. I gently blow into the cup, to cool it down a little. I take another sip. I glance at Athrun Zala again; he was sitting forward, resting his hands on his knees, staring at the floor. He was obviously deep in thought, perhaps about the past war. I decide to let him be, as I leave the room and re-enter the corridor. I take another sip; the cup is starting to burn my fingers so I swap the hand I use to hold the cup with.

'Hey, there you are!' Braner shouts over the two girls, as he notices me. The two girls turn to glance at me. The one in red turns to Braner. I take another sip of my coffee.

'See you later, Myles.' The one in red says as she walks off down the corridor.

'Yeah, see yer, Lunamaria' He waves goodbye briefly. All this time, the girl in the green uniform is still staring at me. I look at her for a brief moment. When she realises this she snaps out of the stare.

'Hey wait sis!' she calls out to the girl in red, as she skips to catch up to her. I watch her as the pair as they walk out of view, whispering inaudible gossip to each other.

'You coming or what?' Braner asks, with a slight annoyance in his tone.

'Yeah sure.' I tell him. We continue walking down the corridor in with only the sound of footsteps and other crewman busying themselves with various tasks. The only comfort I had was the coffee; it tasted a little bitter. Which is how I like it when I needed a good wake up.

'We're here.' He announces to me. I drain the last of the coffee from the cup. Braner pushes a button.

'Braner here, Captain. I've got the DISC officer with me.' He speaks into the intercom.

'Thank you Braner let him in.' The person on the other end of the intercom replies.

'Yes ma'am.' He finishes. He takes my empty coffee cup from me.

'I'll take care of that for you sir.'

'Cheers.' I thank him. I press a button, and the door slides open. I step in and close the door behind me. The room is cool and well lit. The Captain sits behind her desk. She stands up and gestures me to sit down. She is dressed in the white uniform of ZAFT Commander. She looked to be in her thirties.

'I'm Talia Gladys, Captain of the Minerva.' She announces herself. 'Take a seat please.' Though a question, it sounded too much like an order to me.

'Thank you.' I sit on one of the seats that are facing opposite the Captain on the other side of her desk. I hand my card over to her. I sit back in the chair as she studies it.

'Jack Browning.' She states my name. 'What do the Domestic Intelligence and Security Centre want here?' She hands the card back over to me. She then leans forward resting her elbows on the desk, with her hands locked together.

'Before I answer any of _your_ questions, you're going to have to answer my questions first.' I tell her, cocking my head to one side. She looks to the wall whilst she thinks this over for a moment.

'You're a tough one aren't you?' She replies still studying the wall. I just stare at her with deadpan eyes, as best as I can. 'Alright.' She throws her hands up. 'No point arguing with an officer of the intelligence services.' She concedes. 'What do you want to know?'

'Where is Chairman Dullindal? I heard he came aboard the Minerva just before myself on Armoury Four.' Ensuring his safety is my first priority; I must at least confirm this.

'Yes he did.' She sighed. 'He's resting though, so I'm afraid you can't speak with him at the moment.'

'That's fine, just as long as he's safe. I've heard from a little bird, that Representative Atha of ORB is here as well?'

'Yes, she stumbled in with her bodyguard. Alex Dino, or rather Athrun Zala.' Living under a legend I see. Pretty good, that's he remained hidden for so long. But I suppose, him not being around the PLANTs would help with that. Now that he's back here, a war hero like himself would be easily recognisable and popular with some of the people around here.

'Yeah, I saw him.' Thinking back to a few minutes ago.

'Hmm… They were visiting the base with the…' She starts to tell me

'I already know that.' I cut her off. I didn't want to be bored with information I already knew. 'How did they get on board?' I ask to get the ball rolling again.

'Well…' she takes in a deep breath as she searches her memory. 'Apparently, herself and her bodyguard boarded a Zaku, and fought the three stolen units. They got damaged and ended up boarding the Minerva.' She explains. I think back to the green Zaku I saw boarding the Minverva, whilst I was with Commander Gregov, was that him?

'What exactly happened at the base?' All that I know at the moments was that it's pretty much out of action.

'We're not sure ourselves.' She shrugs, kind of a long shot. But the information from her would be the most reliable I could find for now. Any others would be still on Armoury One, cleaning up or dead.

'Tell me what you know.' She might as well tell me what she knows.

'The three units being kept in a storage hanger broke out at some time today. They destroyed most of the mobile suits at the base. I was ordered to launch the Impulse Gundam. Impulse engaged in combat with the three stolen units, named Gaia, Abyss, and Chaos.' I nod, taking in the information.

'Continue.'

'As this was happening, outside the colony, one of our Nazca class destroyers and a Laurasia class frigate were destroyed by an unidentified ship, that was believed to be equipped with the mirage colloid.' A system when installed on a mobile suit renders it invisible to the naked eye and to radar; it even blocks infrared emissions. Perhaps, the most perfect stealth system to date. However I have never heard of it used on a ship before, though it was only a matter of time before someone did it.

'That explains how they managed to get so close to the colony without being detected.' I figure.

'After we launched, we were engaged in combat against the unidentified ship, that we've codenamed; Bogey One. Bogey One withdrew and escaped. We followed in pursuit.'

'The three stolen units boarded Bogey One?'

'Yes. After two or three hours spent refitting and repairing we engaged in combat with Bogey One and the three stolen units again in the area of the debris belt.' She tells me. This definitely went beyond a CDI operation, maybe EAF Special Forces as well.

'And that ended in Bogey One escaping again?'

'Unfortunately… yes.' She scowled. I went too far with that assumption. I remind myself to be more careful. 'Look…' She continues 'Can we wrap this up quickly it has been a rather long and stressful day.' That goes for both of us.

'Okay.' I agree 'Last two questions. What are you and the Minerva going to do now?'

'Priority is to continue the pursuit of Bogey One and to recover the three stolen units. Orders from the Chairman himself.' She rubs her eyes.

'Can I make a call to my boss?'

'Yeah sure, whatever you want.' She must be getting pretty fed up with me. 'Braner will help you with that.'

'Thank you.' I thank her as I get up from the comfortable chair and make my way to the door.

'Oh, one last thing.' She says as I open the door. I turn to face her. 'What is _your_ part in this?'

'I can't tell you that. Top secret, need to know basis. I'm sure you can figure it out for yourself. Remember, I didn't tell you that." I chuckle to myself. She just frowns at me. 'Good evening.' I bid her a farewell as I close the door behind me. I see Braner leaning against the wall just outside.

'Finished?' He asked looking tired and fed up.

'Yeah. I was told I can make my call now.'

'You'll have make it from the Security station. Follow me.'

'Alright.' I nod along, yet again. And yet again I follow him through the maze of corridors. I hadn't quite figured Myles Braner out. At times, he was very professional, giving me the 'tick, tock, yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir!' attitude. Then at other times, he gave away his sarcastic attitude to me. Best I could figure; he pretty disgusted at having to escort a 'kid' like myself around the ship, that's in a higher job then he is. He put on a good face for me, but his mask had slipped at times. I can't really blame him for thinking like that. I'd be the same. However that still wouldn't stop him from hating me. It didn't matter anyway; I wasn't planning on staying here much longer.

After walking just about every corridor on the ship and an uneventful ride on the elevator later, we reached the Security station. Braner punched a code in at an electric lock next to the door to the Security station. The door slid open. Two green ZAFT regulars were chatting to each about the usual random bullshit of their views on the world. The one of them notices me and looks straight at me. The other continues talking until he notices the absence of his listener, then looks at me. They both just stare at me for a moment or two, and then go back to their conversation. They don't greet Myles. They go back to their conversation. Braner leads me into an office room.

'You can make the call from the terminal in my office, here.' He points to the computer at his desk. I sit in chair, whilst he sets up the line.

'Is the line secure?' I ask just to make sure.

'Yes… However it will be recorded.' He tells me. 'Security reasons of course.' It'll have to do for now. Just better be careful not to mention anything sensitive. 'Okay, it's up. You know how it works.' I just nod again. He exits the office. I dial in the number and start the call. The screen goes black, the number I dialled appears on the screen along with the text 'Calling…' just above the numbers. Someone answers. Their picture comes up on the screen. A tired pale girl with short dark hair answers on the other end.

'Liz Ryan, OS Four.' She opens her eyes. 'Oh… Jack, where hell have you been?' She asks with some worry in her voice.

'Sorry I haven't been able to call back. Busy day.' I explain. She shakes her head.

'Where are you now?'

'What kind of daft question is that?' I ask her, poking fun at her. 'The caller ID.' I remind her.

'Cut the crap, Jack!' She snaps, clearly not in a good mood. 'Stoke wants a word with you, and he isn't the least bit pleased with you or himself.' Her eyes are full of anger.

'Is that Jack?' Someone shouts from somewhere in Section. Liz turns to face the perpetrator of the outburst. Liz nods. She steps off the screen and a slightly chubby looking ogre comes on with short grey hair and complemented with a grey moustache. His skin is slightly wrinkled through aging. He reminded me of a very old cartoon dog of the name of 'Droopy', except a little faster on the ball though. 'You're in trouble Jack!' He points a finger at me. 'You know what that little bastard rehfield keeps bitching on about?' He asks spitting acid.

'I can guess.' I shrug.

'Sorry, but I'm not going to cover for you anymore! I thought we agreed that the last time I'd hear about something like this was during Prometheus!'

'Careful what you say, this communication is being monitored.' I tell him. He just grunts angrily.

'Let me spell it out for you; you and I are in the shit!' He retorts. 'Sieren wants us at Centre within the next five days!'

'We're still on an ongoing assignment…' I start.

'Not anymore.' He cuts me off. 'I've just been informed that it's now out of our jurisdiction and it's being handed over to ZAFT. Look, you _will_ be at Centre in the next five days or else!' He points the finger at me again.

'I'll try of course.' I assure him.

'That's not good enough. Our heads are on the chopping block. Sieren will probably assign us to some gutter cleaning or give us the sack.' He hits the desk with his fist. 'Beg, borrow or steal. Just be there in five days.' I look away from the screen and nod. Seeing he's got through to me, he hangs up. I stare at the wall to my left, pondering on what could happen to me now. I've really blown it.

_Endnote: Section Two completed. I've started work on Section Three, and hopefully it should be up in two or three weeks. Please, please, please review. I've had zilch, so far. Comment on anything, mistakes that can be rectified, improvements that can be made (in story and writing) etc etc. _


	3. Section Three

_Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Seed Destiny or any of its characters. _

**A Spy to the Gods **

**Section Three**

The three-day shuttle flight to the Lagrange point five was as uneventful as one could expect. I was able to get a shuttle out of the Minerva after begging for one from Captain Gladys. They got me one. However she wasn't keen on lending me a pilot, so I told her I'd pilot it myself. At first she was reluctant, as well as her executive officer, one Arthur Trine. Again I had to convince her that I was fully capable of piloting the shuttle on my own. She eventually wavered, much to Trine's disapproval.

I figured the Captain to be righteous person. Trine on the other hand was a bit of a different story. From what I could pick up they seemed to debate over all matters. The Captain struck as me a sort of non-conventional military type. Although a Captain of a ship, I believe she would be willing to bend rules and regulations to get a job done. Mr Trine on the other hand, was looking to get up the rank ladder as quickly as he could. He struck me, as a bit of a suck up, doing anything to please his superiors to the point that he could be a blind obedient. He kind of reminded me of Director General Sieren, but without the backbone.

Over the three-day flight, most of it on autopilot, I wrote up my report for the past few days, from Armoury One to the Minerva. One detail I would've preferred to leave out would've been the interrogation of Rehfield, or more specifically what interrogation method I used to get the information I wanted. However, since Stoke said he was going to report that to Sieren, I might as well not lie. Although, it could be a ploy by Stoke, not intending to report it to Sieren, but making me believe he was going to. It would end up with me admitting it myself. In the end I chose to put it in. It wasn't worth lying about. I'm just glad Sieren doesn't know about what I did in Operation Prometheus. The rest of the report was filled with the details of what I saw and heard during my brief visit to the base inside Armoury One and my rather brief explanation from Captain Gladys. That didn't really matter though, as they could get hold of a more detailed battle report from ZAFT military.

It was evening when I arrived at the L5 colony of which the Centre was based. I had docked at the spaceport of which, security had allowed once I flashed my card at them. But not without giving me looks of disgust and distaste. I hadn't showered since I left for Armoury One. My hair was greasy, I reeked from the smell of stale sweat, and my face was unshaven. I felt as if I was contaminated. Something that was nagging me was the number of armed policemen there was at the spaceport; from when I last visited the security had seemed to double in numbers. I had withdrawn some money and booked into a four star hotel. The man at the desk didn't serve me at first. Ignoring me because of my appearance, and smell… probably. I got his attention at some point, when he got fed up of ignoring me and decided to ask me to leave. I told him I wanted a room. He asked if I was serious. I told him yes. Eventually he agreed when I gave him my 'name' and mentioned the code word. This hotel was regularly used by Centre, not that it was public knowledge, of course. I showered, shitted, shaved to cleanse my body. I had collapsed on the bed at about half one in the morning.

To pass the time I had switched the TV on, and that's when I first heard of the incident. Junuis Seven had collided into Earth. According to the well-groomed news anchor, the remains of Junuis Seven had deviated from its orbit in the debris belt, into a collision course on Earth. ZAFT forces were able to shatter the giant mass, however pieces had still fallen, scarring the beautiful green and blue sphere. Something in the news report caught me ears though, the Earth Alliance's man in the White House was claiming that he had hard evidence that ZAFT had forced Junius Seven out of it's orbit with the very purpose of crashing it into the Earth. I really doubted that theory. One more plausible theory was that a ZAFT nationalist splinter faction of some sort perpetrated the events. I suppose I'll get some answers from Centre.

The Earth's Naturals must be in uproar right now, screaming at their governments to do something about the Coordinator menace, and now that the EAF had got hold of the neutron jammer canceller, they may use nukes again. The use of Nuclear Biological Chemical warfare has always scared me shitless. I was lectured during Special Forces training on the effects of these weapons of mass destruction. The Alliance always had a grotesque fascination with weapons like that. Since they couldn't use nukes, they created the Cyclops System, used it twice in battle, and as well as killing ZAFT, they also sacrificed there own soldiers that were used as bait. I was glad I had joined Special Forces. If I had stayed a mobile suit pilot, I was sure that I would've been killed in that war. But that's not to say I got away unscathed being in the Special Forces.

Somehow, I felt an uneasy and sickening sense of relief because of these events. Centre would be falling over themselves to prepare for major counter espionage operations. The Secret Centre would also be expanding itself dramatically to not only to improve intelligence gathering, but to also conduct direct action operations against the EAF. I wondered if they might recreate Spectre again. With all this commotion, Centre and Secret Centre are going to want all the trustworthy people they can get. I'm sure that my job is now secure, hopefully.

I had slept quite well that night. Awakening at around nine forty five in the morning. That was too late for breakfast at the hotel restaurant, so I skipped that meal. I called in to the Centre to report to Sieren's secretary that I've arrived. She said she's call back later. To pass the time of the day, I went shopping for some decent cloths. I couldn't really turn up to the Centre wearing jeans, and t-shirt smelling of my body odour for the past four or five days. After some brief window-shopping, I purchased a relatively inexpensive suit, shirt, and a pair of shoes to wear for the meeting. The secretary called back telling me my meeting with Sieren will be at 3 o'clock. After a quick lunch at the hotel restaurant, I went back to my room to cloth myself with my new purchases. After that I briskly walked for half an hour to reach the steps leading up to the Centre.

Standing outside of Centre, I look at my watch; I've still got about twenty minutes or so before my impending execution. I might as well go in and wait. Maybe see if Stoke is anywhere around. I climb the steps up to the front of the building. I climb the steps slowly, checking my jacket pocket for my card to get inside the building. Outside the entrance are a small number of armed Policemen. They glance at me carefully, before going back to watching the front. I pass through the automatic doors at the top of the steps into the building's lobby. Ahead of me are some more armed Police, as well as the Centre's regular security guards, standing sentry beside the walkthrough metal detectors that stretch through the width of the lobby. The only way past is to pass through the metal detector or go through the door to the right wall that leads to the small security station, that can be seen through it's window. I walk up to one of the security guards just ahead of the metal detectors. I fetch out my card and show the guard. He takes a close look.

'Alright.' He waves me on.

'Thanks.' I nod to him as I pass through the metal detector. No alarms sound, I'm clean. I'm now in the main lobby; it's not too busy, just some office suits are loitering discussing the adventures of paper pushing. The floor is a polished, with a large emblem of the Centre in the middle. I proceed to the information desk to the left wall of the lobby. A young girl mans the high wooden desk. She's wearing a hands free phone headset. She looks like she's in her late teens with her carefully groomed brown hair tied back into a neat ponytail and clear complexion of her face, she seemed more suited as a fashion model then a desk job in the Centre. She sits on a black leather swivel chair behind a computer, typing away at. She stops typing when she notices me.

'May I help you sir?' she asks smiling with her made up, rouged lips. I can't help but stare for a moment.

'I have a meeting with the Director General at…' I glance at my watch '…three. Could you please direct me to his office?'

'Hold on I just need to check with his secretary.' She types something on the computer. 'One moment please sir.' She tells me as she waits for someone to answer. I just smile and nod, looking away for a moment back to the security guards and armed police at the entrance. I ponder at how the meeting was going to go. Would I be sacked? I could be assigned to the school as a lecturer? I highly doubted this, as I hadn't been in this business long enough for that. Maybe it would just be a slap on the wrist.

'Hello Alice, I have someone here…' She speaks into the microphone of the headset 'oh what's you name please?' She asks breaking me from my train of thoughts.

'Browning… Jack Browning, I'm with the Operational Section Four.'

'A Mr Browning, he says that he's got a meeting with Mr Sieren at three… oh right… okay then… I'll send him up immediately. See you later.' She types something on the keyboard. 'You can go up now.'

'Okay… how do I get there?'

'Oh yes… take the elevator at the end of the lobby to the fifth floor, follow the corridor to your left, then take the third right, his office is the door at the end of that corridor, okay?' She points with her finger to the three elevators at the end of the lobby.

'Got it.' I wave her a farewell as I make my way to the elevator. As I reach the elevator I press the button to call one of the elevators. One of them opens to my right. I step inside and press the button for the fifth floor. The doors shut and I feel a slight motion under my feet. After a few moments of waiting the doors opened on the third floor. Two short, bald and tubby looking suits with swimming pools under their armpits enter the elevator discussing arguing over something or other. I step to the back of the small elevator to give them room. One presses for the next floor up. The two don't notice me as they argue about some computer program. After a few seconds more of waiting, the elevator stopped at the next floor, and the two IT gremlins exit the elevator still arguing about the small matters.

The elevator hits the next floor, and out I step. I recite the girl's directions in my head over and over; left, third right, end of corridor. As I walked through the corridor, following the directions and dodging desk officers, probably complaining about strange phone calls they've heard from the operators of the notorious 'weirdo line', like that's anything new.

At last I reach the destination. The old style wooden door is ajar slightly. I push it open a little more to allow my body to get through. The room is relatively small. On the right side of the room there are three chairs with their backs to the wall. The walls are painted in a creamy white colour; landscape pictures are hung around the walls. To my right is a desk with a small and old women sitting behind of it, on a leather chair. The desk is littered with neat piles of paperwork, in/out trays, a computer, and a phone, complemented by a china cup and plate filled with tea. The room is filled with the sweet aroma of that tea.

The old woman looks up from her papers. Her face is sagged and wrinkled with age. Her green eyes looked tired and lazy. Her hair was an aging grey in curls that were cropped close to her scalp; it almost looked like an Afro of some sort.

'Are you Mr Browning?' she asks

'Yes.' I answer. The old woman reaches to an intercom on her desk At the far wall The, I notice the door with the engraving 'Director General DISC' with gold lettering underneath showing 'Mr K.J. Sieren'.

'Sir?' she speaks into the intercom.

'What is it Alice?' a slightly distorted crackling voice questioned with a tone hinting annoyance.

'Mr Browning is here for his three o'clock meeting.' The mention of time made me act, out of habit, to look at my watch. I'm early, still a few minutes to three.

'Send him in then.' The voice speaks in an authoritative tone, like that of a Military commander.

'You can go in now.' She points to the door. 'Knock first though.' She adds.

'Of course.'

I walk across the room to the door with gold lettering and knock three times with my knuckles. I wait for the reply before I enter; I think I've upset him enough.

'Enter.' I hear a voice say from the other side of the door, like before the tone is authoritative. I twist the doorknob and push the door aside slowly, revealing the Director's room to me for the first time. The walls are painted a dark green and decorated with portraits of various important persons from the last three centuries that I recognise from what I was taught in history. A bookcase rests against one of the walls, filled with various books.

'Well then? Are you going to close the door?' That military mannered voice asks. My parade ground manner kicks in as I snap to attention to face the officer taking drill. Sieren might as well have been taking drill; even though he wasn't wearing a uniform he looked military. His suit and shirt looked clean and carefully pressed to the point of being immaculate. Sieren raises an eyebrow and glances at the door then back to me. I close the door to, slowly. After that task is complete I approach his large desk Sieren is seated behind. Behind Sieren is the only window in this office, the sunlight nearly shut off by the blinds. The only other lighting is from the lamp on the desk.

His hair is near jet black in colour and combed back to look slick, no problems as long as it isn't doesn't too the collar, according to military regulations. He had no facial hair, not even one missed out of place hair could be seen on his face, he must shave just about every hour of the day. His face was thin looking, but not unhealthy. He looked as if he kept in shape, with no visible gut. Give him one year behind that desk and he'll have a head full of snow-white hair, a stomach the size of the rock on Gib', and heart that could give out at the slightest surprise.

'Now, now. Don't slouch about like a pregnant camel.' He orders, whilst he tends to put out a finished cigarette stub in the ashtray. I stand up a little straighter, putting my hands behind my back, similar to the military's 'at ease' position. He reaches into a silver plated cigarette case that lies on his desk, and places one of the white death sticks between his lips, lightening it with the distinct snap of a Zippo lighter. He reaches into a draw and pulls out an A4 sized file with the bland brown cover of a personal file. 'Don't smoke do you?' He asks whilst opening the file, my eyes snap from the file to his face.

'No sir.'

'I wouldn't have offered you one anyway. I just wanted to check.' He states taking a puff on his cigarette and blowing it in my direction.

'Is that my file sir?' I ask with some apprehension.

'Among other things.' He flips through the file slowly, glancing at each page for a few seconds before turning over to the next. Whilst he's doing all this, I just stand there observing him. The horrible feeling of anxiousness is still lingering in my stomach since this morning. I felt like the schoolboy that had been called in to the head teacher's office, not knowing what the schoolboy had done wrong to be called. 'Have you got your report?'

'Yes sir.' I reply, fishing out the disk that contained my report that I typed up during the shuttle flight. I place the disk on his desk, stepping back into my 'at ease' position yet again. Sieren picks up the disk from his table and looks at it with an almost childlike curiosity, before he throws it on the desk.

'Is that everything?'

'Yes sir.' I reply. He leans back in his chair linking his fingers and placing them across his stomach.

'You've been with us what? A year? Two?' He inquires.

'About eighteen months sir.' I correct him.

'And all that time you've been in Operational Section Four as a field officer?'

'Yes sir.'

'And how old are you?'

'Twenty one sir.' Shouldn't he have read all of this in my file? Must be trying to confirm the information

'That would make you the youngest field officer in Centre.'

'I suppose it would… sir.' I remember to add at the end. I might be young but I have the experience of being in Special Forces that most others lack Field officers come from all over. Most of Centre's field officers are volunteers from various people like the Police, a few from ZAFT and civilians off the street that have never even fired a gun before in their lives. The few civilians that do eventually become field officers usually apply for a desk officer or surveillance but show high standards that they are dangled the offer for a Centre field officer instead, but very rarely does this happen.

Even though field officers are a mixed bunch, we still have to pass the rigours of testing and training at the school.

'Do you know why I called you here?' He asks, getting straight to the point, to the extent of a guessing game.

'What do you mean?' I think I have some idea what he means, but I'd best try to get Sieren to tell me himself, otherwise I'd be spilling some information that he wouldn't need to know or want to know.

'Don't be such a feather head.' He calls me playfully. 'It must be important enough to be standing in the office of the Director General DISC.'

'Rehfield?' I guess. No point in playing him off now.

'You're not as naïve as you seem, just too heavy handed. And in my opinion, too heavy handed for Centre.' He tells me, his volume rising higher and higher.

'Rehfield withheld _critical_ information that OS Four needed to prevent the theft.' I emphasised.

'I'm aware of that, but that didn't mean that shoving a wet towel down his throat was the best option to get that information. Besides it's not as if the theft was prevented, so it was completely unnecessary to carry out.' His tone was razor sharp now. I decided to give in, I was too 'heavy handed'

'I apologise for my forceful tactics and methods sir. I assure you it won't _ever_ happened again sir.' I'm not sure whether I meant it or not.

'Did you tell that to Stoke after operation Prometheus as well?' His tone is still sharp. I can't help but have my mouth agape. Did he find out?

'What about Prometheus?' I'll try to get him to tell me again.

'Don't feign ignorance!' He snaps. I pushed him too hard. 'It's just come to my knowledge that you had done something similar during operation Prometheus. Why don't you tell me what happened five months ago? From the beginning.' This is it for me now. I might as well tell him everything.

'The beginning?'

'I only joined Centre four months ago. What I have is only on paper in the archives. Besides, I want to hear your version of events.'

'Very well sir. Five months ago we received advanced warning from one of our Section informants that the Blue Cosmos terrorist group…'

'Oh yes…' he cuts me off. '…Those puritan bastards who never give us a spare moment to spend to ourselves,' he reminds himself.

'Yes, those ones.' I took a breath. 'As I was saying, we got wind that they were trying to detonate a nuclear bomb inside one of the PLANT's at Lagrange Point Four. So we initiated operation Prometheus, a large scale pre planned op' that had been in the works for months and to be executed should a situation arise.'

'Continue.' He orders me as I take another breath.

'The plan was that OS Four along with co operation with the local police force to raid suspected Blue Cosmos safe houses and arrest anyone we suspect of being involved, under the CE68 Anti-terrorism Act and the CE62 National Security Powers Act…'

'Yes, yes, yes. Skip on ahead.' He interrupts irritably.

'I thought you said you wanted to hear it from the beginning?' What does this guy really want? What is he playing at?

'Easy Browning, just tell me what happened with a Guy Erby?'

'It seems that you know enough about this already, so why are you asking me?'

'As I said I want to hear you say it and your reasons for killing him.' His tone was getting sharp and irritable again. I scan my memories five months ago to what happened in holding room B on that early Tuesday morning.

'Erby was the head of the Blue Cosmos L4 Active Service Unit. We arrested him during one of the raids. Because of the lack of personnel at the time, I was tasked to interrogate him.' Sieren didn't look that interested anymore, like a man who's having to put up with same news over and over again. But I'll continue none the less. 'Everything started out okay no problems whatsoever despite a feeling that I had met him before. Then he mentioned it; Grozny. I remembered that he was once my inquisitor and tormentor during my captivity two years ago.'

I started to remember very vividly what I did to him when I remembered him. I was in a world of my own. Sieren's office had melted away to reveal that dark and dreary empty room of holding room B; with nothing more then a single table and two chairs to keep its occupant feel welcome. Erby was sitting in the chair. I was standing over him from the other side of the table. He was grinning as the memories of my inquisition flashed through my head. I drew my pistol and shot him twice, once in the stomach, the second in the chest and through the heart. A gurgling sound escaped his mouth before his body slumped forward onto the table with a thump. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air of the room, and the blood seeped from his now lifeless body over the table. It felt justified and righteous, I had no regrets.

'Who else knew of this?' Sieren interrupted me from the memory, must had been recalling it word for word without realising it myself.

'Oh… erm… Stoke and Liz… Liz Ryan.' I choke the words out. I had to be careful now, so as not to get either of them in trouble.

'And they covered it up?'

'Yes sir, we said that he attacked me and I had no option but to shoot him.'

'I remember reading that in the Prometheus report.' He finishes his cigarette and puts the stub out in the ashtray. 'Weren't you in a relationship with that Liz Ryan?'

'Was… I broke up with her after Prometheus.' And I've never been with anyone else since.

'Crying shame that. Well then let's wrap this discussion of ours up.' I felt more relaxed now that I got that off my chest. And I felt the present back to me in full again. 'Do you feel any remorse for what you did?'

'No.' I answered honestly. There was no point in lying anymore.

'If another of your captors appeared in this office, and there was a gun in your hand, would you shoot him?'

'Yes.'

'Even if I ordered you not to, would you still shoot him?' he asked. I took a breath.

'Yes.'

'Then I'm afraid there's no place for you here. I'm sorry Browning but I'm going to make an example of you.'

'Sir?'

'I'm officially decommissioning from the DISC. You should consider yourself lucky that you're not going to prison for murder. This service does not need a trial on its hands at such a time as this. This discussion will not go any further then these office walls.' He informs me in a serious tone, perhaps with a sense of sympathy, but I wasn't sure. I look to my shoes, trying to decipher what I should do now. 'I hope you understand, but this isn't some Gestapo, KGB, or Stasi organisation I'm running.' I understand, however he doesn't understand the pain I felt two years ago, that drove me into the rage that killed Erby.

'Of course.' I whisper. I drop the 'sir' since I'm no longer an officer of Centre and therefore Sieren is no longer my boss.

'You are to report to Operational Section Four where the Director will go through the process with you.'

'I have my sidearm in my hotel room.'

'I'll get someone to pick it up and hand it in. You can leave now.' I nod as I retreat from his desk and towards the door.

I storm out of the office, slamming the door to his secretary's room angrily, making sure my exit is now well known. I stalk my way back to the elevator, hastily pushing a the button for the ground floor before I even got into the elevator, just so I wouldn't be confined with the IT gremlins. I let out a brief sigh of relief seeing the doors close before anyone else could get inside. I rest my head against the wall of the elevator as I take breaths slowly and deeply try to control my concoction of emotions that were engulfing me at this very moment. I feelings of anger and rejection were eat me away. What if I had said no instead? Would he have kept me on? Have I fallen into a trap of his? I'm such a fool.

I hit ground floor. I exit the elevator barging past to suits that were in front waiting for it to reach them. I continue my small rampage through the lobby, past the security guards and out of the doors. I take in a deep breath, restraining myself from taking one last look of Centre. I slowly walk down the many steps, my eyes cast downwards.

'Hello lad, you look like shit.' I hear a voice say to my left. I turn to head to look at who the person is. It's Stoke. He was wearing a suit similar to the one I was wearing, although his was mostly hidden by the large over coat.

'That's the most reassuring sentence I've all day.' I truly smile for the first time today. 'Always good to see a true friend.'

'Shall we walk?'

'Sure.' We walk over to a local park just down the road. A Gardner was trimming the grass. School children played. Families had picnics. Nigel and myself sat on a bench over looking a small lake.

'You get the sack then?' He asks, breaking the silence.

'Yeah…' I sigh. 'You?'

'I resigned.'

'Resigned? But you're a career intelligence officer, you should have Sieren's job.'

'He was giving me quite a bit of flak about losing those three new mobile suits. I told him to go to hell. I don't want to work under him anyway.' He lets out a deep breath. 'How about yourself?'

'Oddly enough, he played out more like "agony aunt" then "vicious bastard".'

'He must've liked yer.' He chuckled, which I joined in on.

'Yeah right, he told me that there's no place for _me_ in Centre.' The bastard.

'Because of Rehfield?'

'As well as Erby.'

'You didn't tell him about that did you?'

'No, you only reported my encounter with Rehfield didn't you?'

'That's right.' He shrugs. 'You know I'm sorry about that.' He adds after a short pause.

'I know you are. What's really going to keep me awake at night is just who leaked the information about my incident with Erby?'

'The only other person who knew was Liz, but… it can't be her'

'True, she's had five months to report it, why would she do it now?' I asked myself. Could it be because I broke up with her? Can't be, I've known her since I joined Centre and she's not the type to extract revenge like that. Although, women are the most deceiving species' in the world today, that's why they make excellent spies.

'Probably because she didn't.' He informs me sternly.

'Well there's the possibility that perhaps they dangled a promotion in front of her to get her to talk?'

'You're being naïve!' He snaps. 'How could they get her to talk about something they hardly have a clue on?'

'There could've been a secretive internal investigation into Erby's death.' I reason. 'Think about it…'

'Listen Jack!' He exclaims. 'I've got a good friend inside Centre's branch that work the internal investigations, he's kept me up to date on anything that might be of concern to my department, he's assured me that an investigation wasn't in the works for Erby's death. He told me the previous Director General thought that it would be an insult to the Section to have them investigated after they successfully prevented the "device" from going off.'

'How do you know your "friend" isn't feeding you crap?' I counter.

'Because we go a long way back, I can trust him with my life if needs be!'

'Sure.' I still wasn't convinced. It's good to keep an open mind at times while working for Centre. But at some point you've got to narrow it down by collecting evidence and information. What Stoke was lacking in his argument was evidence. I wasn't going to take the word of someone I've never met before, especially if they work internal investigations.

'Now, now we should stop this bickering. Does it really matter?' It didn't. 'We're both out of Centre and there's no going back to it either. Stop letting it eat you away.'

'What are you going to do now?'

'I think I'll go pay my ex-wife a visit.'

'Belinda?'

'Centre destroyed our marriage.' Whatever you want to believe. 'You know I gave you some advice when you first started here?'

'Never get married.' I recited.

'Bollocks to what I said, your out of Centre now.' He chuckles. Again I join him.

'No I think I'll still live by that advice.' I still remember how ugly my parents' divorce was a decade ago. 'Are you going to give your marriage another try?'

'Belinda told me to call her once I left the job.'

'You better shave your moustache off then.' I poke fun at him. He gives a light chuckle.

'Noted. What about you? What are _you_ planning on doing from now on?'

'I'm not sure myself.'

'You know… I hear ZAFT Special Forces Command are falling over them for ex-SF to train and lead the reconstruction of the SF units. And you are the only surviving member of Spectre Detachment as well.' Damn him for bringing that up. 'Don't be surprised if you get head hunted.'

'I think I'll pass. I still remember the betrayal by the ZAFT. I don't care if they do claim they're a different lot to the previous leadership.'

'If you did re-enlist you'll be sent to Earth for sure. The Earth Alliance are serious about this war, and now that they've got the Neutron Jammer Canceller, you can be sure they'll be launching nukes at us again.'

'Even so, I'd prefer not to. It'll bring back bad memories'

'Well then, this here is perhaps my last piece of advice for you; don't drink. You'll never stop and soon you'll end up sleeping in a bed set.'

'Noted.' I smirk.

He looks at his watch briefly and then he stands up. 'I've got an appointment to go to. I doubt that we'll ever meet again.' He holds his hand out in front of me.

'Be seeing you.' I reach out and shake his hand firmly with my own. I wave farewell to one of my true friends, that I've had so few of in my life, as he walks down the path back into the real world.

_Endnote: Section Three completed. I know I said that I'd wait until it nears the end of Destiny to start work on this fic again. But I think that I've had some time to think that I could do this chapter and a few more without diverting from the original story of Destiny. And (hopefully) those chapters should be finished by the end of Destiny then I can carry on, no problems. Anyway, please review._


	4. Section Four

_Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Seed Destiny or any of its characters. _

**A Spy to the Gods **

**Section Four**

What a way end up. But I guess about fourteen shots of Jack Daniels will do that to anybody. I was lying on the torn sheets of my bed, stained with vomit, blood, and the stink of my un-showered body. My guts are probably liquid now. I feel like dispensing them on the floor.

'Wake up Jackie!' Someone shouts, shaking me violently then pushing me over onto my back. I try to will my body to fight back against the intruder, but I fail. With blurred vision, I see the silhouette of a large man standing over me. My senses come back to me as I awaken from my daze. A blistering headache and taste of vomit reminds me of the harsh realities of alcohol.

'Leave me alone you bastard…' My voice is slurred as I tell the intruder the first thing that comes to my mind.

'Christ! What have you done to yourself this time son?' the intruder asks. Who is this person? The voice sound very familiar, over-confident and belligerent. I can't quite make out his face in the darkness. A bright light appears in the room, blinding me. I shield my eyes with my forearm. The effect reminds me of the flash-bangs we used in Special Forces for close quarter combat.

'Turn the bloody light off you bastard!' I shout to the intruder.

'Sorry… but I think it might help you recognise me.'

I withdraw my arm from its position, shading over my eyes. I squint as my eyes get used to the light. I look at the face of the intruder. He's a tall, muscular looking man. He has short dark hair, short enough that it doesn't need combing, as well as a groomed beard that covered his lower face from the side burns to under the chin. 'Shit! Don't tell me that all that alcohol has killed off your memory as well?' He laughs. I don't get his joke. I sit up leaning my back and head against the wall.

'Who are you?' I shout. 'What are you doing here?'

'That no way to speak to your commanding officer!' He snaps playfully in a fraud military manner.

'What? I have no commanding officer anymore.' I'm getting aggravated. Just who the hell is this person? Why won't he answer my questions?

'Africa, Kaohsiung, Kashmir, Siberia… ring any bells?' I take a moment to digest the information thrown at me. Maybe it can jump start my memory.

'Special Forces…' I mumble as the memories of the previous war come flooding back.

'You're getting warmer, not bad for someone as pissed as yourself.' Again he laughs to himself. A name crops up in my memories of ZAFT's Special Forces Operational Detachment Fifth-teen

'Neil… Dahm?'

'Bingo!" He clicks his fingers. 'About fucking time you figured it out son!' So that's who it is. Neil Dahm, commander of the Special Forces Operational Detachment Fifth-teen, my old unit during the war. He was your typical run of the mill dashing young officer with everything going for him. At least that's what the higher ups in Special Forces Command thought. He was a right mad bastard at times, most of the time when off duty anyway, but during operations, he was serious minded. He was one of us, one of the boys. He had this special talent where he could turn on a believable gentlemen's charm at the click of his fingers. One moment he could be picking fights in a bar with the locals, arguing over who owns what women, and the next he could be dressed in a tuxedo, knocking back vodka martini after vodka martini whilst flirting with a drop dead gorgeous blonde. I swear he must have been a con artist or a high-class thief before he enlisted in ZAFT. A criminal of some sort, I'm sure of. A number of questions are eating me away about the how, what and why of his presence in my apartment… at least I think this is my apartment.

'Yeah… what are you doing here anyway?' I ask, moving along from his name to his purpose for being here.

'That was some fight you got into yesterday.' He smirks.

'Yeah, I remember…' I inform him '… sort of.' I mumble to myself, as I could only recall bits and pieces of my scuffle in the bar I drowned myself in. He holds his hand out in front of me. I take up his offer as I grasp his hand; he then helps pull me up off the bed. I wobble slightly as the feeling of being able to stand returns. I push my hand through my hair. I look towards the window, shielded by the blinds. I walk up to it and use my fingers to separate two of the slats to look outside. Apart from the street light illuminations, it's dark out. Wondering what the time was I look at my watch, only to find it smashed, with no numbers on the display.

'What time is it?' I coughed out. He looks at his watch.

'About three thirty in the morning.' He tells me. I just nod. I look down to my clothes; I was still wearing my suit I had bought two days ago. The jacket was missing, and the shirt was torn in places. It was stained in blood and vomit. The vomit I was pretty sure was mine. I hadn't a clue about the blood. I feel my fore head as a jackhammer pounds away at my skull. It feels damp and sticky. A sharp sting strikes a nerve as I touch what must be a cut just below my hairline.

'Ah! Shit!' I curse. I might as well play the good host to him. 'You want a drink of coffee or something?'

'No, I'm fine. But you could use one.' He insists.

'I think your right.' I agree as I walk over to the kitchen unit and sit down on one the stools.

'I'll make it for you son.' He follows me to the kitchen unit. He stills has his habit of calling everyone younger then him 'son', 'lad' or 'Junior'. Even if they were old then him, if they were lower in rank he'd call them son still, but that's only if he had little or not respect for them.

'Coffee granules are in the top cupboard to your left.'

'Gotcha.' He opens the cupboard taking out the near empty coffee jar out. I watch him as he prepares the coffee. 'How's the coffee at Centre?' he asks. I stop my usual thoughts. He just carries on making the coffee, his back turned to me. He's got to still be with ZAFT to have known that. I would've known if he was in Centre.

'Are you still with ZAFT?' I hope he's not trying to recruit me back into Special Forces.

'Not exactly,' he answers. I want answers from him now.

'Look! As lovely as it is seeing you again, why are you here? And further more, why do you think it was necessary that you break into my apartment?' I inquire. 'Why didn't you just knock or ring the door bell like normal people?'

'I did, you never answered.' He reasoned. He turns around to face me again.

'It's three in the morning, people don't usually answer the door at that time.'

'They do eventually.'

'So you broke in? You hacked the lock and broke into my apartment and wake me up by shaking me violently?'

'Sure… I tried shouting down your ear 'ole but I still wasn't get any response from you.' He answers as if it was no big deal. Neil Dahm; master criminal, near enough a real life 'Phantom'.

'You know if I had a gun with me I would've shot you?'

'But you didn't. And even if you did, you wouldn't had hit shit.'

'If I was sober I wouldn't have needed a gun.' I counter.

'In your dreams, son.' A beep indicates the kettle has finished boiling the water. 'You still take it black, two sugars right?'

'Yeah.' I nod dumbly. 'Just _why_ are you here at half three in the morning?' I frustratingly ask.

'There's a man who wants to talk to you.' He displays a cup of coffee in front of me. 'My boss as a matter of fact.'

I hold the cup by the handle and take a small sip of the hot liquid. It burns the tip of my lips and tongue for a moment, before the pain settles.

'You can tell him he can shove up his arse!' I tell him bluntly. I was now standing up to his level. I notice he's still a little taller then me, maybe by an inch or two. This guy could've been poster boy for ZAFT if it had come to that, he had the dashing good looks and charm reminiscent of the EAF's Mwu La Fraga, they only reason they didn't pluck him for the part was because they could have a picture of a covert ops soldier on the front page of magazines, besides he was of more use to ZAFT slitting throats of EAF soldiers.

'Relax son. I don't work for ZAFT anymore.'

'Then who?' I ask. He takes in a breath and blows it out of his nose while he thinks of an answer, or some euphemism for it.

'I work for the boys at Thursgood.' He says, going with the euphemism. That single word, 'Thursgood', makes my mind click. He's working for _them_ now. 'I was ordered to come here and escort you to the House.'

'Is this a recruitment?' My mind and body had sobered up a little. I sit back down on the stool and tend to the coffee.

'In a word; yes.' He states, a stern look on his face. 'I can't go into the details now, all I need is a yes or no?' I just stare at him dumbfounded. A party erupted in my head, a job. However, should I take it or not? Would I be signing my life away again? Like they did in Spectre, abandon me a leave me to die in some Amazon swamp or Afghan cave. I knew that ZAFT were 'supposed' to be a little more caring of their operatives, although even our own spies were betrayed by the end of the war. Their officers were stranded on that miserable planet along with myself when the Council decided to fire the GENESIS; if it wasn't for the intervention of the insurrectionists I would've been dead, along with the entire population of Earth. 'Well?' Dahm takes me away from my memories.

'I don't know.' I sigh. 'Is there a time limit to my decision?'

'I'm taking the twenty past six flight out of here. So that gives you…' He looks at his watch '… about just under two hours till I've got to leave for the spaceport. In the mean time, have yourself a shower, shave, and get some clean cloths on. You smell like you've spent a life's sentence in a cows stomach and you've just been released through its arse.' He was in a more joking mood again.

'Alright.' I sigh. I leave him and the coffee waiting in the kitchen while I head to the bathroom, to cleanse body once more. I enter into the bathroom locking the door behind. I removed my clothes and tossed them into a corner and stepped into the shower. I still feel sick from the alcohol, dizzy too. The headache is still there as well. I haven't looked at my face yet. I wonder what happened? I turn the shower on; cold water hits my body first causing me to shiver, the water gradually turns warmer and more comfortable.

Whilst having this shower I think back to what must had happened after the flight. It was uncomfortable. I was stuck in economy class, bad. Worse, next to some overweight cretin that couldn't even let me sleep as he kept bothering me with his opinions life, death, and the universe. He revealed himself to be a nationalist. 'I dun care what people say, those ruddy naturals always cause us trouble, and I say we ruddy well exterminate them.' That kicked it off. Once the women sitting next to me heard this she couldn't help but get into a debate. I was stuck in the middle of it all, taking in all the missed rounds they fired off at each other.

If I had had a job, I would've been screaming and dancing for joy once I got off the shuttle and away from fatso. But not before he wanted to know if I wanted to meet up with him later on. I gave him the slip when he was busy getting his luggage. All I had was on my back. The security at the spaceport was tight, much like that at Centre, but even ZAFT were standing in as well as the local police this time. The lack of information was killing was tearing me apart. If I were still in Centre, there'd be more then enough intelligence on my desk for me to handle, especially now that there's a war on. I couldn't quite figure out why Sieren had sacked me at the most desperate times. All the departments would've had to be expanded to counter intelligence agents of the Earth Alliance and terrorists of the Blue Cosmos, probably funded by the Earth Alliance, as well as the odd one of two of the nationalist terror cells.

I went to the Section immediately after leaving the spaceport. There, the security guard escorted me to the new Director of Section, a _very_ military mannered chap, and a typical stooge of Sieren's. I don't recall his name, I couldn't care less though. He made me stand to attention and call him 'sir' whilst he put me through the humiliating decommissioning process. I then emptied out my desk and draws under the watchful eye of the only uniform in the room. Anything 'sensitive' was quickly pulled out of my hands. I walked out of Section for the final time, carrying a box of my belongings. I never saw Liz; I didn't want to ask if she was in, they wouldn't tell me. I would've at least like to have said 'goodbye', I could go around to her home and see her, but all she'd do is lead me into her bed. Not that I don't find her attractive, but I couldn't bear to be with her after what she witnessed. Her knowing of what I was capable of. She did offer for me to talk about it to her. I pushed her away.

I dropped the box off in a river somewhere. Its contents contained nothing of any importance or use. Much like the usual crap an overpaid civil servant would have on their desk. I went to a bar somewhere, hadn't a clue which one, some place that was set up like an Ikea catalogue page, playing the pretentious modern 'pop' shit that lethargic teenagers listen to. Though it wasn't my sort of place, anything but my local will do, I knew that some officers from Section went to my usual, not that it should bother me but I just didn't want to run into anyone from there. This is where my memory starts to get hazy. Bartender laid double after double of Jack Daniel upon me. I just sat on a stool, thinking about the past, present, and future. The bartender, Jeff I think his name was, tried to start up various conversations about anything; sports, current affairs, relationships, jobs. I didn't let it go anywhere though. I haven't a clue when the fight started, who started it, or whom it was I fought with. The next thing I know, I'm woken by Peter bloody Perfect, at least that's what he thinks. He must had been watching and following me since I left Section. I wonder if he had helped out in the fight or just watched and laughed like a tourist at a zoo.

I finish having the shower. I wipe the condensation off the mirror with my palm; I notice a bruise on the back of my hand. I look into the mirror. I look like shit. My face has a small cut just below my hairline, the bleeding had mostly stopped and a scab was starting to form. There's also a yellowish bruise starting its performance on my right cheek. I stick out my tongue. It's coated in yellow. That colour seems to have taken a liking to me this morning. I hate yellow. I grab the towel and dry my hair with it in rapid motion. I put a dressing gown around me and I exit the bathroom. Neil is still in my kitchen, he was pretending to be busy by downing some of my coffee.

'Feel better?' He asks.

'A little.' I say quickly.

'So… thought anymore about my offer?' He takes a sip of the coffee. I hadn't really; too busy sorting the filing cabinet labelled 'memory'.

'I'm still thinking about it.' I lied. I've only just started thinking about it. I look back to the slowly cooling half empty cup of coffee sitting on the kitchen counter. My stomach screams 'No!' I pour it down the sink.

'Come on! It wasn't that bad!' He boasts. It really wasn't that bad, but my stomach couldn't handle it at the moment. 'You didn't complain about it back in the good ol' days!' He continues his gripe. His voice had become that of a whinging teenager.

'You were my commanding officer back then. If I didn't agree I'd most likely end up digging cess pits in the name of the war effort.' I counter. 'Besides, this isn't half bad, probably because you didn't use your "special recipe".'

'Geez, and I thought you were my friend…' He shakes his head in disgust and goes back to his own coffee. I think back to how seriously he took the 'art' of brewing a coffee. I honestly couldn't tell the difference; just nod and smile to at least pretend you have a clue what he's on about.

'I'm going to get changed.' I inform him.

'Clock's ticking.' He reminds me, tapping his watch.

'Yes!' I hissed at him. I walk back into my bedroom and raid the wardrobe. I still felt a little groggy, but it wasn't as bad as before. I think I'll wear something similar to what Neil had, casual. My standard jeans, dark t-shirt and dark jumper, should do.

What would this job specifically involve? Working behind a desk? No chance. Ex-Special Forces and ex-DISC Field Officer do _not_ become paperclip pushers, especially when they're head hunted at three in the morning. It'll most likely be working on Earth, perhaps in one of their stations, or in the dreaded clandestine operations. Job opportunities like this rarely occur within ones life time, should I seize this one?

I finish dressing myself. I reach into one of the draws by the side of my bed, and I take out a spare watch. Nothing fancy, just a cheap digital watch. I put it on my right wrist with the display facing the same way as my palm. The digital display shows that it's now twelve minutes past four. I step out of the room and back into the kitchen. Neil is still there, but he's finished his coffee and was now leaning on the counter, arms folded.

'So… have you decided yet?'

'Bloody hell! Take a breath before you ask the question. I've got some time yet.'

'But not long, son.' He reminds me. I sit on the stool and lean my head on my fist. We sit there in silence for a few moments while I contemplate my decision. After a few moments, Neil breaks the silence. 'It's not like you've got anything else going for yourself. You could get a "normal" job like a… librarian or a… book collector. You could even work for Martius Arsenals or Maius Military Industries as a security advisor?'

'No thanks, that's one of the last things I'd like to be doing.'

'How about a Civil Servant job? You'd get more pay then you did in Centre.'

'Tell a lie, _that_ is the last thing I'd want to be doing. Before I make my decision your going to have to throw some information my way. What would this "job" _be_ exactly?' I think my decision is already made up, but it's always worth it to make sure.

'Like I said; _I_ can't go into the details, but my boss can. And to meet my boss you'd have to take the flight out with me. This job however, goes pretty deep. If you accept to go on the flight you can still refuse the offer, though my superiors will be most pissed off. Once you meet my boss however you are going to have to accept the job, there's no going back once in Thursgood House.'

'You are trying to convince me to take the job right?'

'As for the job itself…" He continues, ignoring my question "…Well it'll be the same work I do for Thursgood. So it can't be that bad.' He reasons. I sit and think for a few moments, contemplating my final decision. He's a got a good point though. There isn't anything else for me here. Centre threw me out of the window because of some vendetta of mine. I wonder that if I'd get lifted and turned by the Alliance's DCI, I've got some valuable intel about the DISC and it's procedures in my head. Not that I'd be doing myself any favours if I did, they'd only have some Blue Cosmos terrorist murder me once I was of no use. I still want to get some payback on those bastards, and I can't do that in Centre or ZAFT, they both have too many rules and regulations. Blue Cosmos don't play by rules and regulations; 'the cleansing of Coordinators for the preservation of a blue and pure world.' That's all they live and die by, death of all Coordinators, myself included. I'll need the freedom that _they_ have to get back at Blue Cosmos and their supporters.

'Alright…Let's go.'

_Endnote: Section Four completed. Sorry for the short chapter (well… shorter then the last one). Section Five should be out within a month or so. Thanks to those that a read and reviewed so far. They motivate me to keep on writing this. _

_But for the love of whoever-it-is-you-pray-to please please please review! It's very disconcerting at how a fic with 600 words get about 30 or so reviews, although some are not always positive, at least they are getting read, reviewed and told at how they can improve it. I usually find these fics to be romance. Well… if it'll make some of you lot bloody happy I'll have a bloody romance in it. Joking, but I did plan a small bit of romance from the start, though anything won't happy for quite a few chapters yet._


	5. Section Five

_Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Seed Destiny or any of its characters. _

**A Spy to the Gods **

**Section Five**

After we left my apartment at about some minutes to some hour. We left via, what I presumed was, Neil's car to the spaceport I had only just arrived at no more then twenty-four hours previously. We had a little while before the flight so he decided to have an early breakfast at the food court. I skipped it though, my stomach still hadn't settled, anything I put in would only come back up again. It's better that way really, like what the ZAFT PT Instructors would say if anyone started chucking up on a run; 'Better out then in.' And if that was the case, I don't put it in. I just sat on the chair opposite in silence while he scoffed a full English breakfast down his mouth.

After that we went through the usual bullshit that was security checks. There was quite a bit of commotion as all flights were grounded. The enormous television screen with a squeaky-clean news anchor told me that a there was an attack on the Aprilius City, no more then a few hours ago. Lucky for us two, we never became apart of the angry crowds, as we were taking what Neil called 'a special government flight'. Very luxurious, certainly better then the flight in. Another bonus was that there wasn't fatso or anyone else like him in sight. I was seated next to Neil, and he even let me sleep for most of it. I woke up a little while before we reached our destination. It was at that time that I noticed that we had been escorted by Laurasia class frigate for possibly the entire time. It certainly was high class. I should travel with taxpayer money more often.

Neil and me talked on and off throughout the rest of the journey. Mainly about anything other then this war, the job, and what we've been doing since we parted ways two and a half years ago. We swapped the occasional humorous story, and reminisced of our service to ZAFT in the now previous war. I skipped the in flight lunch since I was still feeling a little sick from last night. Once we arrived at our destination we were met, once again, by watertight security. A man couldn't sneeze without permission. I noticed that there seemed to be a lot more ZAFT military policeman then the regular police. Well… this is a war. After we had got through all the security check bullshit that we were subjected to, as well as dodging the growing crowds of anger, we hopped into a dark green Ford car.

'This yours?' I asked with fake interest. As I step into the car and sit on the leather seat at the passenger side.

'No, this belongs to the car pool.' He tells me as he sits in the drivers seat. I strap myself in as he starts the car. 'Hang on a sec, I've got to make a call.' He scoops out a flip top mobile phone from his pocket, dials some numbers, and places it next to his right ear. After a few seconds he speaks. 'Good afternoon sir… Yes sir, we've arrived… That's right, he's with me… We're leaving the spaceport now… The Club…? Right, I'll be there in a few minutes.' He hangs up the phone.

'That your boss?'

'Yep, just calling to tell him we're on our way. Let's get going.' He drives out of the parking lot, and eventually out of the terminal. Not before a goodbye from the watchful eyes of the ZAFT MPs with nothing better to do. We get on the motorway heading for a cluster of buildings that makes up a city, presumably where Thursgood House it located. I had never been to or seen the House where the SSC headquarters are based.

He turns off the motorway slowing the car down as he drives through a winding road. The car radio finishes a crap pop tune by some talent less fool. I pay no attention to the babble of the radio announcer. I notice that crowds of people are clustered around themselves with signs and chanting some nonsense. On one of the large screens normally used for advertising, important political messages, and new flashes, a face of a young girl appears. I follow the screen with my eyes while the car is still on the move at a steady speed. The girl has a gold star shaped clip clearly visible in her long, flowing, and bright pink hair. Her eyes are of a beautiful deep blue. The eyes spoke of a sadness, and yet a determination as well. I had seen the same look in eyes of the resistance soldiers I fought alongside with in Grozny. We pass the screen and the girl is now out of sight.

'My fellow citizens…' a soft yet clear voice speaks on the radio. 'I am Lacus Clyne. Everyone, please calm down, and listen to what I have to say. The recent events of Junius 7, the declaration of war last night, and the attacks by the Earth Alliance that came about because of it. They are all truly heartbreaking. I am just as shocked as everyone that nuclear missiles have been fired without warning. But please, everyone, please control your feelings for now. Allowing yourselves to be caught up in anger and rashly shouting your thoughts aloud will only bring forth a new war. The Supreme Council is currently trying its best to prevent that worse case scenario from happening. That is why, my fellow citizens, I beg you all. The Supreme Council and Chairman Dullindal always cherish peace, and now, they are trying their best to find a better way. Please trust your representatives, the Supreme Council and Chairman Dullindal. Please calm down for now.' She finishes.

Some speech. But was that really Lacus Clyne? Daughter of the now dead Siegel Clyne, former chairman of the Supreme Council, Lacus Clyne? The pretty girl on the screen looked very similar to the Lacus Clyne I remember from two or three years ago that I had seen on the very same screens like the one she had appeared on just now. But she had near enough completely disappeared since the end of the previous war. Why should the war bring her out of hiding so she could read some political message? Would Neil know anything about her unexpected return to the public eye? My recent ignorance of the state of the war has made me hungry for information and answers.

'Was that who I thought it was?' I asked in a way that I needed someone to pinch me to see if I was dreaming.

'Seems so. She did say her name was Lacus Clyne.' He answers flatly. Almost like he knows all about it. Well… more so then _Joe Public_.

'Hasn't she been missing for over two years? Well... at least here in PLANT anyway?' I inquire further.

'It seems she's back to rally support for the Chairman.' That much is obvious.

'But why would she come back now?'

'Apart from what I just said. I don't know for sure. Does it really matter though? At least she can keep the citizens calm during a crisis. And let's face it, nearly getting nuked by homicidal natural bastards could be consider a _big_ crisis.' I wish he would stop telling me what I already know.

'I suppose so. Though I don't see why a pop star like herself should think that she can influence public opinion so easily just because she can bounce around on a stage singing about non-existent idealistic optimism that makes me want to throw up.' Saying that bring back the unpleasant moments of the night before between the toilet and myself.

'Not that it'll be any better with politicians. Besides, she has a friendly face; she makes a good "poster girl" for PLANT and the Supreme Council.' He must know something about it. He doesn't seem at all surprised by her sudden reappearance.

'Don't you know anything about women? Whenever they're friendly or complementing, they want something.' I add a joke to the conversation.

'Good point...' He agrees with laugh. He did have a good point though, as long as she can keep the citizens calm by her words alone, it doesn't matter. Apart from the engine noise the car is once again silent. My body lunges forward as the car breaks suddenly. The seatbelt slams me back into the seat.

'What the fuck?' I ask no one in particular through a short daze.

'Get out the road you fucking moron.' Neil shouts through the windscreen. I look to see a small group of what looks like protestors with their signs some saying 'Remember Junius 7' and another with 'Kill Natural'. Panic. Panic is what was happening everyone is on edge. I look left and right through the side window, passing people of mixed professions involved in heated debates on what to do. The people in front move out the way after a few blasts on the car horn

It dawns on me suddenly. We are vulnerable. I've been trained in combat and survival for all kinds of terrain, from deserts to jungles to tundra's. Further more, I fought and survived in those harsh environments against near impossible odds. But in the age of Mobile Suits, Nuclear weapons, and GENESIS, in the end the soldiers aren't needed to fight anymore, only the technology and the operators for it. It scares me. At how easy it has become for one person to push a button to kill so many people. I am a survivor but even I wouldn't be capable of escaping weapons like that. I involuntary shudder as these thoughts pass through my head. It feels cold all of a sudden. I fold my arms. As the thought passes my body calms down, and I begin to relax again. I'll try talking to Neil again to get my mind off my thoughts.

'Where are we going?' I ask. It was pretty obvious that we would be going to wherever Thursgood House was on this colony. Though the destination could be a safe house perhaps.

'I'm taking you to the Radford Club on Charlotte Street.' He explains. The Radford Club? I had heard the name before, some sort of restaurant or bar for the upper class. I think I remember Nigel talking about it once or twice during mindless conversation. I don't recall if he had said if the food and service was good though, if he had I wished I had listened to him.

'What's at the Radford club?' Food and drink, obviously. I should've asked 'who' rather then 'what'.

'My boss. I did say that you were going to meet him didn't I.' It wasn't a question. I wish he'd stop these jokes and answer my questions fully, instead he gives me half answers, and most of those are patronising euphemisms that only a parent would tell a child.

'Yes you did.' I answer. 'But why at the Radford club?' I question further.

'He wants to talk to you while he's having he has the time to eat. Also you wouldn't be allowed in Thursgood House. Security's got much tighter. You did notice all those extra guns at the spaceport just?' There he goes again.

'Of course, of course. I'm not an idiot.' I tell him. I might as well get it out of my system. 'Every time I've asked a question regarding this job or who I'm meeting, all you've given me is bollocks! Throw some info my way for fucks sake! I think I've been a pretty good sport about all this so far.'

'You know what I once read?' He asks as we stop at a red light. He's trying to change the subject, yet again.

'Don't change the subject!' I raise my anger filled voice to him.

'A line in a book I once read said "The greatest tribute to a secret agent is for someone take him for a idiot. All the secret agent has to do is to make sure he doesn't act too much like one." ' What was the point in that?

'What the fuck does that have to do with this situation?' I express to him. I'm getting worked up. I need to calm down.

'Nothing really.' What is he trying to do? What is the point? I'm sure that I was close to getting a blood clot in my brain.

'Stop the car I'm getting out.' I tell him, struggling to keep my voice calm. I need to get some air, to help calm myself.

'Relax, we're almost there.' He says. I press the switch that automatically winds the side window down. The cool rushing air blows lightly on my face. I take a breath trying to control my frustration. 'You alright?' Neil asks.

'Yeah, I'm just need to calm myself.'

'We're here.' He announces as brings the car to a slow halt next to the curb. I breathe a sigh of relief. I really didn't want to be in close proximity with Neil for any longer. I start to open the car door. 'Wait a second.'

'What?'

'He's just in there.' He gestures to the building to my left. Above the open doors is a sign saying 'The Radford Club'. The windows to the building reflected the image of the outside. It must have had the windows covered in that type of film that allowed it's occupants to see outside, but those outside couldn't see in. 'Go inside tell them your name and that you're a guest of Mr Rennie, they'll be expecting you. I'll pick you up, outside the club, in thirty minutes.'

'Got it.' I acknowledge, as I finally get out of the car and to freedom. Just before I close the door, he leans over the passenger seat.

'There's one more thing.' He says.

'And that would be?' I ask as my mind screams; 'fuck off already!'

'Don't give him any crap like you just gave me. This guy has been _very_ busy the past week and he has had little or no sleep. See you in half an hour.' He says. I couldn't laugh, whatever sense of humour I had left had drifted out of my body during that car ride.

'Yeah, thanks for the ride.' I close the door finally. He pulls out and back into the traffic again. I walk through the open doors and into the club. It strikes me that this place looks, in a word, traditional. It didn't have the modern look that most restaurants, clubs, bars and hangouts would have. Where as those places would go for, what could be described, as the 'metallic look', this looked near enough the opposite. I walk further inside, and I eventually meet a short tubby looking man smartly dressed in a typical waiters outfit. He eyes me suspiciously. I think I should've chosen my attire to be a little more formal.

'Excuse me sir, may I help you with something?' He speaks.

'Yes I want to speak with Mr Rennie.' I tell him.

'What's your name?' He asks with a hint of sarcasm. He's speaking down to me as if I'm some lost child. Upper class prick!

'Jack Browning.'

'Ah yes, he did say that he was expecting you. Please follow me, sir' He changed his mood. One minute he's looking down on me as if I was something he'd just trodden on, to looking up as if I was the Chairman himself. He trots off on his little legs further into the restaurant; I follow behind him passing customers in formal attire feeding themselves. Some scowl at me, others snicker and whisper to each other wondering how I had gotten this far inside here. Upper class bastards! I wonder now how powerful and respected this Mr Rennie just is, to have been able to get someone like myself in a place like this. After a minute or so of following the waiter, we reach a quieter corner of the restaurant. A man at a corner table is finishing giving his order to a tall, lanky waiter.

'… And I'll have the fillet, medium rare please.' I catch the man saying.

'Very good choice sir.' The waiter says as he takes the menu off the man and walks away at a brisk pace.

'Mr Rennie? This is the gentleman whom you were expecting.' The tubby waiter says to the man.

'Ah good. Glad you made it here relatively on time.' He stands up offering his hand with a half smile. I return the favour by grasping his hand and giving it a good shake. 'Take a seat.' He gestures to the chair sitting under the table across from himself.

'Thank you.' I sit down on the carefully crafted wooden chair facing opposite him. I sit up straight, leaning back into the chair with my hands resting on my thighs. I better make a good first impression. Treat this as if it was a job interview, which it probably is.

'Do you want anything?' The man asks.

'No thank you, I'm not hungry.' I reply. Though I hadn't a thing all day, I still wasn't up for food and I still wasn't sure whether my stomach could handle anything just yet.

'Anything to drink in that case?' He insists further.

'Oh… uh… just a glass of water.' I tell the tubby waiter.

'Right away, sir.' He bows slightly, and then trots off. I take a good look at whom this man is. He looks to be in his mid to late thirties, of medium build, and close-cropped light brown hair. He's wearing a grey suit with a light blue shirt unbuttoned at the collar and a loosened grey tie. He seems very calm, relaxed, like a man in complete control of oneself and of others.

'I'm surprised they let me in here, dressed like this.' I try to see if I can get a laugh from him, to see if he has got a sense of humour of any sort.

'I suppose you attracted a bit of unwanted attention to yourself.' He says.

'Yes, I suppose I did. Neil forgot to mention that I would need to be formal.' I laugh a little.

'Oh well, don't worry about it now.' He assures me. Not the exact response I was expecting, but at least he didn't scold me for it. 'Jack Browning. You joined ZAFT at the age of sixteen in CE69. You fought in the war at first as a mobile suit pilot and then later as a Special Forces Operative, oh and correct me if I get anything wrong.' Looks like he's going through my life story.

'No, you're right so far. Carry on.'

'After the war you were recruited into the DISC as a Field Officer for their Operational Section Four for about 18 months, that was until just a two days ago, where you were decommissioned from the service?' He continues.

'Yes, that sounds about right.' I tell him as I take a quick glance around at the other tables in case anyone was eavesdropping on our conversation. There weren't many people in this part though, and those who were there were far enough away to hear us and too engrossed in their own conversations to care about ours. I suppose the only problem we would have is the bloody waiter sneaking up on us.

'I'm glad Neil suggested you. I first thought you were just another ex-Special Forces grunt, but I was impressed when I looked into your background a little more. I was puzzled over a five-month gap in CE71 where you did... nothing. The report was blank for those five months. After delving a little deeper, I found out that you were participating in operations in ZAFT's top secret special ops unit; Spectre Detachment.' This guy is good at getting his facts right. I think back to those months spent in Spectre and those varied missions I performed, the innocent people I killed in the name of ZAFT. Yes, we were forced to kill civilians when needed, for our own survival. Kill or be killed, I hate that, but it's true.

'Yeah... I suppose you know about the Wild Joker mission as well?' I ask.

'Yes.' Damn. The fewer who knew about it the better, better so it would be easier to forget. A month spent eluding an enemy on my own, spent in captivity then waiting for that dread shot that would've obliterated the Earth, myself included.

'Here are your drinks, sirs.' The tubby waiter is back and he's brought drinks with him. 'Your lager sir, and your water sir.' He says as he places each glass on the wooden table. 'You're steak should be ready in a few minutes Mr Rennie. Oh and are you sure you don't want anything Mr Browning?' He asks with a fake smile.

'No, I'm fine thank you.' I tell him for a second time. I feel the sudden need to knock this waiter's head off. Common sense wins out and I restrain myself from doing so.

'Very well, sir.' And with that we walks away once more. Now back to the conversation with this 'Mr Rennie'. I'm not convinced that is his real name. I notice that I feel more relaxed now, and less apprehensive then when I was stuck in the car with Neil, well I might get some of those questions that I asked answered from this guy. I look at the clear liquid the fills the glass, and the ice floating with their tops floating just above the edge. I take a small sip of it just to test. It's ice cool, and refreshing. I take a gulp this time, and swish it around my mouth a little. I couldn't quite get rid of the horrible taste of vomit that was still in my mouth.

'Ok, so you know pretty much everything about me. But just _who _are you?' I ask.

'All right, I'll level with you. I at least owe you that since I had Neil drag you from your apartment, then to the spaceport for a shuttle flight all the way here with little or no information about why you I want to speak to you.' This guy seems pretty level headed; at least he has some clue of what I've been through for the past twelve hours.

'Yes, I was getting to the point that I was going to throttle Neil.' I chuckle to myself. He joins in this time. Maybe this isn't such a bad guy after all.

'I'm the Director of Operations for the SSC.' He whispers over the table. If I heard the rumours correctly, that means he's quite high up in the Thursgood Hierarchy, reporting to directly to the Chief of the SSC, his deputy and the National Defence Committee. Neil was right though, at a time of war this guy would be working his arse off.

'And what about Neil, does he work for you?' I ask.

'He's the head of the…' he leans forward 'Special Operations Section.' He whispers. 'Codenamed, "The Caretakers".'

'Special Operations… Section?' I'd heard rumours that SSC had a sort a specialist group, that I think was similar to Spectre Detachment. Though I often wondered whether they did or not, since we used to get quite a few missions from the SSC, but they were mainly highly dangerous combat missions. But I suppose a unit like this would be useful to the SSC during the inter war period, where every mission was near enough politically sensitive.

'Yes, the name is self-explanatory, so I don't think I'd need to go into the details.' Of course he doesn't need to explain it. I'm very familiar with the job. But the missions itself is another matter, I think they would be of a much more sensitive nature for an intelligence service then for the military.

'Of course, so you intend to recruit me?' I ask. A bit of a stupid question to ask, this was after all a job interview of some form or another.

'Yes.' He replies flatly.

'Into this Special Operations Section?' That is what I should've asked straight off. Though it does seem quite obvious, that he mentioned this Special Operations Section to myself and because of my war record, it shouldn't had been a surprise. But you can never be too sure.

'Yes. Call it "The Caretakers" please?' He pauses, taking another gulp of his drink. 'You should consider it quite an honour as not many have been recruited into the Section, and even fewer have been asked to join.' He tells me as I take another sip of water from its glass. I guess that makes me popular. He follows suit and takes a sip from his pint of lager.

'I suppose you're trying to recruit as many personnel as you can because you've got to increase your resources for the war effort?' That sounded too much like a statement, rather then a question. As well as that it made me sound like a smart arse, telling him what he already knows.

'As well as that, we're trying to recruit as many of the best people before ZAFT get their hands on them and whisk them away to their Military Intelligence Bureau.'

'How's that?' I inquire as he downs a little more of the pint. His eyes show a man of concern, a serious expression on his face. His body is leaning forward, arms rested on the table, he leans a little closer.

'You see we're being screwed over by members of the National Defence Committee and ZAFT.' He whispers. Is this right?

'What do you mean?'

'There's a plot to undermine the SSC.' He says, voice still hushed and no change in his expression.

'An internal power struggle during a crisis like this?' This is getting to the point of becoming another Clancy novel.

'Some members of the National Defence Committee want an intelligence agency that works directly for them, gives them what they want, tells them what they want, and does what they want. You know that the DISC and the SSC are independent organisations and are not actually a part of the government. And with the failure of the DISC to prevent the theft of the mobile suits, it has given them all the more reason to have ZAFT take it over.' He still whispers. What point would this serve? I mean we're all in the same business at the end of the day, defence of PLANT and it's population. All this is going to do is to make that job more difficult, just because a bunch of ignorant pricks want complete control of the DISC's and SSC's roles and responsibilities, as well as having their own problems to deal with.

'Why ZAFT though?'

'They're one hundred percent loyal the Defence Committee, and they take orders direct from them since the Committee is made up of high ranking ZAFT officials.'

'I see, so they're intending to fold the DISC and SSC into ZAFT.'

'Yes, under the Director of Military Intelligence. That means all security and intelligence matters would fall under him.' A change like this shouldn't happen in war, it would jeopardise the security, unless ZAFT are already handling DISC's and SSC's responsibilities now, and they're just waiting for the go ahead to cut us out of the loop?

'What can you do about it? What are you going to do about it?' My voice is getting louder and sharper, I better be careful not shout out anything. I'm just so angry and annoyed at the bloody fools who sit at their desks, assume they know what's best for the world.

'Not much I'm afraid.' He leans back into the chair. 'The majority of the Committee is on ZAFT's side. The only thing we can do is produce results and produce them fast to convince those bloody REMFs that we are capable of doing our tasks.' Oh yes, the REMFs; Rear Echelon Mother Fucker. It's been a while since I'd head that expression, but the only people who use it are frontline soldiers to describe the guys that sit at the back and watch the fighting while we _do_ the fighting. Could this guy have been in the frontline? Maybe, but then again that kind of soldier is rare since most just sit on a chair, whether it's at a CIC or in a mobile suit. I take another drink of the water. 'Here's something that might be of interest to you.'

'And what would that be?'

'The current Director General of the DISC, Kevin Sieren, did you know that he's purposely trying to undermine the DISC by allowing the change to take place when it eventually comes.' The bastard! I should've known it. The fucking bastard! The fucking hypocrite! Lecturing me on what he thinks is best for the service, fucking arsehole. I'm so angry, that if that fucking waiter did come back I wouldn't think twice to break his legs. I'm getting worked up, my breathing has become more rapid, I'm gritting my teeth violently to the point where they could crack any second.

'Fucking hell!' I sigh. 'I heard he was a desk jockey for the fucking ZAFT Intelligence, the bastard is a mole!' I almost shout. 'How did he get to become head of DISC after coming out straight from ZAFT?'

'Keep your voice down!' He leans across the table again and whispers sharply in my face. 'I know you're pissed off, but don't go shouting it at the top of your voice!' He finishes. I try to calm myself, make my breathing more relaxed. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I should've been more careful.

'Alright, I'm okay.'

'As I was saying.' He leans back once more. 'He's following orders from the DMI. And as for how he got the position, that was the Council's doing.'

'Figures, but what would Sieren get out of it?' It didn't make that much sense since he was now the head of the DISC, then again the Council put him there so easily, they could just as easily take the position away from him should he not fulfil their wishes.

'The top spot to become the next DMI once the current one leaves, and he gets a spot reserved for him on the Committee.' Typical fucking politician! Willing to do anything to get a place amongst the Council.

'Typical fucking REMF!' I curse under my breath.

'I also bet you'd like to know who it was that leaked the Erby shooting to Sieren?'

'You know about that as well? Is there anything you don't know?' I asked with a stern expression.

'Not much, anyway, it was your ex-girlfriend, Liz Ryan.' He informs me. My mouth is agape and I feel the colour drain from my face. I suddenly feel sick, and the need to retch. I start my deep breaths again. Not Liz.

'Liz? Can't be, why would she?' I find it difficult to get the words out. I mustn't cry, mustn't let him see my cry. I pinch the top of my nose slightly, to hide any tears that might break out. Is everyone I know involved in this plot? I feel like the idiot, the fool, the last to find out.

'She's a mole for Military Intelligence. The reason is that ZAFT want you back in Special Forces.'

'What? How?' I suddenly feel like a chess piece, a pawn to be specific. Played around the board to the liking of the chess players; the DMI, Sieren, and Liz. Maybe even by this guy.

'They sack you so, you're out on the street and jobless then they recruit you. It's just fortunate that Neil got to you first.' He says. I wasn't really listening anymore. I was in a moment where I was to myself, the thoughts clouding my mind.

'I think I'm getting more sick then I was before. But wait… who told you about Erby, there's only three people other then myself who know about what happened, who told you?'

'Your old boss, Nigel Stoke.' His expression was still the same throughout. No emotion whatsoever.

'He's working for you?' My mouth is agape again, in disbelief. Is the whole world in on this but myself?

'He doesn't work for me as such and I don't work for him. We're just very good friends. We pass each other bits and pieces of information that would be useful to each other's service. You see the heads can be a little too stubborn for their own good.' Yeah that was true. Now that he mentioned it, I can't say I'm surprised, Nigel had been a member of the intelligence community for many years. As far back as when it was still just the one service, the National Intelligence and Security Centre, before it was spilt in CE 68.

'Oh god, I know I wanted to be informed on what I'm doing here but I didn't expect it to go this deep.' I rub my head. This is too much to take in.

'The truth hurts lad.' No doubt about that. 'But in any case we're running out of time here, so I advise that you come to a decision about the job opportunity.' Back to the job talk, again. He could be playing me though. Telling me all of these lies just to get me to join the SSC. Though, he did have the point about Erby and the leaking of that to Sieren, that much was true. But it could've been Nigel instead of Liz. If Nigel really was with this guy, then he could've told Sieren, so he could fire me and have Neil and this guy pick up what was left of me.

'I don't really believe this, none of it. Why should I believe any of this? How do I know that you didn't have anything to do with my sacking so you could recruit me instead!' I snap at him. I recover myself, this time I'm going on the offensive. If he was lying throughout, I never noticed. He always wore that same hard expression. I take another sip of water.

'Keep your bloody voice down. At the moment all you have is my word, but we have the evidence.'

'Oh, then how did you come by all of this information then? How do I know you didn't just create the whole story from thin air?' I ask. I thought about what Neil had said in the car ride; 'The greatest tribute to a secret agent is for someone take him for an idiot. All the secret agent has to do is to make sure he doesn't act too much like one.' Has that been a warning of things to come?

'I don't know _who_ exactly, since it's not my area. Look, I assure you that this is not a mind screw, and that this wasn't just some ploy to get you with us. Think about it.' His expression has changed. I think he now knows where he went wrong; he's softened his expression, into one of concern and sympathy. But he could still be lying. Then again, if the case was that my sacking was orchestrated, then he wouldn't have needed to tell me the fairy tale about the rivalry with ZAFT Intelligence.

'This job then, is it going to be a case of sending me out to so some arsehole end of the world then leaving me to die?' I ask, not wanting a repeat of my experiences two years before.

'I give you my word that won't happen, besides the mission we have lined up for you won't be too difficult and you'll be among friends, in a manner of speaking.' He takes a gulp of his pint.

'How do I know that I can trust you to get me out of there _when_ the shit hits the fan?' The shit will _always _hit the fan. Like the saying goes 'No plan ever survives contact with the enemy'.

'I was in the Section too, during the war. I was abandoned on Earth just like you, after the EAF's Operation 8.8. I was there, stranded, when they decided that the GENESIS should be fired at Earth. I know what you went through. Just like you I am also the only survivor of an elite unit, I'm the remaining "Caretaker" that survived that war. And when I got back I built the Section back up again to the standard that it was when I was there. I won't allow the Section or it's people get killed so easily.' That was quite a speech. I wonder whether any of that was true. But then again, I do think he must had been on the frontlines somewhere, or if this was the case, beyond the line. But if it is true, then this guy is just like me in most ways. Or he could be making this up, just to strike the sympathy chord with me. I don't care though.

'Would I have to do any extra training for this?' I wonder. I might have to go to 'The School' again.

'Usually, but since your needed to be operational within a short time frame we don't have the time, besides you've kept reasonably active mentally and physically at the DISC. I'm sure you're good enough.' Well, that's good, I guess. 'The School' is an establishment used by the DISC, SSC, as well as some ZAFT, select and train candidates. I remember my field training was tough, PT, essays, surveillance training, more PT, more essays, weapons training, even more essays, and even more PT. The hardest part was the interrogation phase. I really didn't want to do that again. Beside the Special Ops training would probably be even tougher then that.

'Alright, I'll do it.' I made my mind up. It was probably a mistake, but I though back to my experience on Earth and captivity by Blue Cosmos. I still hadn't got my vengeance yet. I don't want to serve any master anymore. This is for myself

'Good man. I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning. Neil will take you to Thursgood House to get all the paperwork over and done with by tonight, so you can be briefed tomorrow on the mission tomorrow.'

'Right.' I reply. The lanky waiter returns to the table.

'Here's is you steak Mr Rennie.' He says as he places a plate of steak and chips on the table carefully. I catch a whiff of the delicious looking meal. If my stomach didn't feel so queasy I would've ordered something myself. 'Will there be anything else, sir?' The waiter inquires.

'No, that'll do thank you.'

'Enjoy your meal, sir.' He says, as he leaves.

'Now if you don't mind I'd like to eat my meal in peace.'

'Of course, it's about time I get going.' I say as I stand up from the table, checking my watch.

'Oh, by the way, my name's Erik Kinnsman.' Leaving it a little late aren't you? 'Cheerio.' He finishes.

'Be seeing you.' I wave a farewell to Erik Kinnsman, as he is about to dig into his meal. I wonder what I've got myself into.

_Endnote: Section Five completed. Sorry, this took so long, but I've been very busy with college work and residentials. But now that the summer's finally arrived, I've got more spare time to work on it._


	6. Section Six

_Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Seed Destiny or any of its characters. _

**A Spy to the Gods **

**Section Six**

After Neil had picked me up from outside the Radford club, he took me to a small office within the same city where some staff from the SSC's Executive Branch was based. Although these guys were all paper pushers at heart, they didn't skip security for their one floor office. Heavies in suits waited outside the doors with their hands buried down the inside of their jackets, fingers brushing the butt of their pistols, ready to draw them from their shoulder holster at a moments notice. Whilst there I filled out the forms, signed this document, signed that document, fingerprint here, fingerprint there. At the end of it I had my own identification to say I was an officer of the SSC and servant to the Supreme Council, again. After three hours spent doing that Neil drove me back to his place where I stayed the night in a guest room at his apartment.

We talked for a little about what the Special Operations Section does. The difference between a special operations officer and a field officer, apparently 'Caretakers' are exclusively ex-military, no officer within the SSC, despite his or hers experience in intelligence, cannot be a 'Caretaker'. Currently the section has twelve members including Neil and myself, and they report to the Director of Operations. He explained that the number of 'Caretakers' change during the times, when the service was formed in CE68, the section comprised of three officers, he told me Kinnsman was one of these officers, at the start of the war in CE70 the numbers were boosted to a dozen or so, and throughout the war they kept recruiting replacements for those that had been killed or missing. By the end of the war, twenty-seven had been recruited in total since the services formation; Kinnsman is the only one that survived. He must be either very fortunate, or one hard bastard. During the interwar period they kept the numbers at a dozen, busying themselves with assassinations, escorting defectors, rescuing operatives in trouble, and combating Blue Cosmos terrorists away from home. I passed on any drinks he offered.

During the discussion something clicked in my head, something that should've clicked hours ago. Had we been tailed during our journey? I asked if he thought watchers followed us from Centre or ZAFT Intelligence, he said there was a Centre surveillance team following me since I had been sacked. They were probably there to track my movements till the ZAFT recruiters arrived, if I was going by the story I had been fed earlier. Once we had arrived on this colony they stopped, there was no way they could get away with a surveillance op on the SSC's home turf. I went to sleep that night on an empty stomach.

When I woke in the morning I found Neil in his kitchen cooking himself another full English breakfast. I settled for two slices of golden brown buttered toast, and a black coffee with two teaspoons of sugar. I asked what the plan was today, he said that I shouldn't worry about such things. He then went rambling on about this story, of how, when he was in Murmansk, he rescued an compromised agent before a CDI intelligence officer was able to get to him first, by getting the local informants to spread a rumour of some such of how intelligence officer was a mole for the Oceania Secret Intelligence Organisation (OSIO), just something to keep the officer off balance as well as having the CDI investigating one of their own. The rumour turned out to be true, and the officer was arrested, much to the outrage of the OSIO. The agent was able to escape from the safe house and get back to PLANT alive. The OSIO was compensated for their loss accordingly with some plans for a new weapon system of some sort. No matter how nice an ending the story had, it did little to answer my question in the first place. I asked again. He then gave me the answer I was looking; 'we're going to Thursgood House today, so you can meet the team. I think they also have a mission lined up for you as well.' 'That soon?' I asked. 'Yeah, well it was meant for someone else.' I showered, washed, shaved and cleaned my teeth to presentable standards. The clothes I wore we're some I neatly stuffed into a small backpack to take with me; Jeans, blue shirt, black shoes, and a dark polyester jacket. Neil was wearing something similar but with more formal looking trousers.

Thursgood House, headquarters of the SSC. Where as Centre was located within the busy urban environment of a bustling city, Thursgood was located in the back garden greenery a few miles outside of the city where I had met Kinnsman, well out of sight from the public eye. The buildings itself were very different to one would've expected from a high-class secret intelligence agency. Then again something that would look like a secret underground bunker from a James Bond film would look very ominous, even in this day of age. The buildings could be considered decadent, even 'ancient' to modern architects, fussy designers and home decorators. I had asked Neil about it to which he replied that it was a boy's only boarding school before it was converted in CE68. I questioned him further to why, even for a school, the designer chose such a design for a building. He said the previous owner, who paid for the costs of the school was an traditional upper class émigré from Great Britain, who based the building on the boarding school he went to when he was young. From the outside of the building I couldn't tell of anything that looked out of place from my imagination of what a boarding school would look like. However, there was the perimeter fence with the armed guards at the gate, unlike those at Centre who always had to wear their uniform, these were in civvies but even so were armed to the teeth, being donned in tactical vests with body armour, and toting a mixture of Heckler and Koch small arms ranging from the 4.46 personal defence weapon to the 5.56 assault rifle. From there, Neil drove on the grey tarmac road, which heavily contrasted with the green grass at either side of it.

The entrance to the building consisted of a large wooden door watched over my more armed guards on the outside as well as the inside of the buildings. I showed them my card to which they waved me in clear. Just beyond that door was the main lobby, a large room with a hard marble floor decorated with the large emblem of the SSC. Neil led through a number of corridors to which he said a hello to whoever he passed. I just stayed silent as I followed him. After a few minutes of walking through the maze of corridors within the heart of the building, we reached a metallic door sliding door with the lettering 'Operations Branch' written in black. Neil punches in a code in the keypad to the side of the door, and it slides open in one quick motion with a swish sound. We enter.

On the other side is a very large room with at least a two storey high ceiling. Desks are dotted around the area with slim grey computers sitting on the desks with matching colours. Suits and skirts sit at these desks talking on phones or typing something up on a computer. At the far end of this room, is a set of stairs leading up to a glass room, currently covered by grey blinds from the inside. We walk through further into the room. The air is quite cool and ventilated for a room that has no windows from what I can see. I follow two or three metres behind Neil as he strides into the room confidently.

'Morning Ricky.' Neil greets to someone, while I look at the large display. I divert my attention to the start of a conversation.

'Welcome back.' Replies a short middle-aged man in a striped shirt and loosened red tie. 'How was the trip to L4?' He asks.

'It went fine, no major problems to speak of. I tell you what though it was lucky that you booked me on the government flight.'

'Oh yes, all others were cancelled weren't they due to that EAF attack. Did you get the guy in the end? Is this him?' He asks Neil eagerly, gesturing towards me.

'Yeah, this is Jack Browning.' Neil introduces me.

'Hello, I'm Ricky Marsden.' He says as he steps forward offering his hand. 'Duty Ops Officer, I've heard a lot about you.' He finishes

'Nice to meet you.' I accept his outstretched hand and give it firm shake before letting it go.

'How's the planning coming along for the Minerva op?' Asks Neil.

'Well it was a bit rushed, but it's not too bad considering its not as high risk as the one we've got lined up for you.'

'Unless you're hit by friendly fire.' Neil says.

'It seems to be a lot of that going around.' I add.

'Yeah that's true.' Ricky laughs. 'By the way, Kinnsman is waiting for you in the briefing room.'

'Right, see you later Ricky.'

'Cheerio mate.' He says as he walks off to with a slight swagger, to whatever he's got to do. Neil continues moving towards the staircase, I follow close behind. As we get closer I notice a slightly ajar door underneath the staircase. Standing in the doorway is a petite brunette skirt. I notice that Neil is making a beeline straight for the door.

'Hello Alice.' Neil greets her with a smile.

'Don't "hello Alice" me!' She snaps with a razor sharp tongue. 'You're twenty minutes late and Mr Kinnsman is waiting for you in the briefing room.'

'Still not on a first name basis with Erik yet?' He asks with a sly grin.

'Well, you're not even that far with me, so I suggest you shut up by yourself or I'll be forced to put a cushion over your arse.' She pouts with her glossed red lips. I just watch and listen to the conversation, or sparring match rather, take place with a certain amount of intrigue.

'Is that a promise, love?' Neil grins at her, revealing is near perfect teeth.

'Piss off Neil!' She fumes with annoyance as she pushes past Neil and steps past myself. My eyes follow her arse, as it wiggles side to side as she walks back to her desk.

'Colourful lot.' I comment to Neil, my eyes still fixed on the girl. 'Certainly more fun the those zombies I met yesterday.' I finish.

'That was the Executive Branch, and before you ask, yes they are like that all the time.' He explains. What a dreary lot they were. Typical office clowns, except they don't make me laugh, but then again I don't find much humour in circus clowns either.

'Neil, Jack you're late!' I hear someone shout behind me. I turn my head to see Kinnsman now standing in the doorway with his arms folded. I'll let Neil explain it to him.

'Morning boss.' Neil greets. 'Traffic was atrocious this morning. We were stuck in a queue for twenty minutes.' He explains. Kinnsman leans forward.

'Then make sure you leave twenty minutes earlier next time. You can leave your excuses for when the war's over. Morning Jack, how are you? Better I hope?' He laughs.

'I'm feeling a little better thanks.'

'Good, because you're going to have to get stuck into your new job today.'

'What do you mean?' I ask with some confusion.

'We've got a job lined up for you already, brief is this morning.' He says. I raise my eyebrows in surprise. He registers my reaction. 'Don't look so worried; it isn't like we're going to be dropping you in the deep end.' He steps back into the room. Neil follows and so do I. The air in this room is a little stale and hot, more so then the larger Operations Room anyway. In the middle of the room is a rectangular shaped table with eight black leather chairs sitting around it. On the wall furthest from the door, is a video display of some sort. I notice a stocky looking man fiddling with some of the controls next to the monitor.

'Take a seat.' Kinnsman insists. He walks up to the stocky man to have a chat with him. I glance at Neil, who has already taken a seat on the left side of the table. I pull out the chair to the right of his, and sit myself down on it, shuffling a little to get comfortable. At the far end of the table are a number of papers and files. Other then that the grey table is bare.

'About bloody time they're here!' Exclaims the stocky man. My head snaps to his face. His lazy annoyance shows. He looks to be about in his late thirties, maybe a little older, he has dark skin and short black curly hair. And although he looks a little short, he looks like he could hold his own in a fight.

'Alright leave it at that George.' Kinnsman whispers loudly to the stocky man. I just sit back into the chair, checking to see how far it can lean back.

'Well I make the effort to get this mission sorted out within a very short timeframe, whilst I've got half a dozen more to look over, you think he could make the effort to at least turn up on time.' He complains to Kinnsman, flapping his arms around a little whilst doing so as well.

'Yes, and we're all very appreciative of your work, okay.' Kinnsman flatters the stocky man. Kinnsman turns to me. 'Jack, this is George Murdoch, head of mission planning. George this is our new boy in the Section.'

'Oh... Jose's replacement is it?' He puts his hands on his hips, instead of offering his hand. 'Just keep in mind to make your quickies quicker in future.' He motions his finger at me in very similar fashion to how a mother would usually do when scolding their child. A replacement? What happened to this Jose chap?

'I'll keep that in mind.' I inform him. I can see that George was about to speak.

'All right everyone, now that we've been properly introduced, and as colourful as it was, we've got a brief to get through. George.' Kinnsman takes a seat on the other side of the table, and turns himself in the chair so that he is facing the display. I do likewise as does Neil.

'Operation Gleck...' George begins, switching on the display to show a little presentation with the name of the operation and it's objectives listed. '… Is to have a SSC officer aboard the ZAFT ship, Minerva, to assist, advise, and liase with the Captain and crew on intelligence matters. I'm sure you're aware of the current situation that the SSC is in. As for an overall situation, a few days ago, the remains of Janius Seven had it's orbit changed deliberately to collide into the Earth by an unknown terrorist group believed to have nationalist and anti-natural ideals.' The display shows video footage of mobile suit battle taking place around the ruins. I take little interest. 'The majority of the remains was destroyed by the Minerva, however small fragments still crashed into the Earth. The Earth Alliance, claiming that PLANT was responsible for the incident, had declared war against us. Just yesterday morning ZAFT forces intercepted and eliminated a major EAF nuclear attack. At the moment ZAFT holds the areas of and around Carpentaria and Gibraltar bases. Nations that would usually consider themselves neutral are being pressured by the Alliance to join them. This also includes the Kingdom of Scandinavia and the ORB Union. The current objective of the SSC is to assist the war effort in conducting covert intelligence gathering and specialist operations on Earth. It is vital that we play the role very well to avert a takeover by ZAFT.'

'Excuse me, why the Minerva?' I interject. What's so special about the Minerva? I remember that I had boarded the Minerva at Armoury One and that it had fought the EAF ship, 'Bogey One'. I wonder if it

'If you keep your jaw shut, I'll tell you!' He points at me. I stay silent. It wasn't as if it was taking the piss. I can see that George and myself are going to get on just fine, providing we're not in the same room as each other.

'George, let it go. Continue.' Kinnsman warns George.

'In answer to your query.' George takes a breath. 'The Minerva is, in a sense, the most advanced ship in ZAFT. It has the new Impulse Gundam Mobile Suit onboard. As well as that, it has been tasked with recovering the three advanced mobile suits that were stolen from Armoury One about a week ago.' A diagram of the Minerva and, what I presume, is this Impulse Gundam appears on the screen.

'ZAFT are being a little too stubborn with what intelligence they share with us so you'll doing it for us.' Kinnsman takes his turn to speak. 'Also, if you can complete given tasks under the watchful eye of ZAFT and show them that you play an active part in the recovery of the stolen mobile suits, then it gives them something productive they can report to their superiors and the National Defence Council to show that we're not as impotent as they are led to believe.' He explains.

'So I'll be there as a show of force in a way, all one of me?' I ask with some disgust. I'm not keen on this idea.

'I don't like it either, but it's the service at stake. Besides it's not as if it's going to be difficult.' That's true, but still how is it really going to help in the war? Well… I suppose it keeps this service afloat which has its uses.

'If it's that important, why doesn't your top man do it then?' I motion my head to Neil.

'I've got my own Op in a couple of days, and believe me there's more at stake then simply the service with what I've got.' He informs me.

'As I was saying.' Says George. 'You'll be reporting and receiving orders, as well as missions, from our station commanders. Unless in the event of an emergency, by no means are you to make calls through ZAFT comms. Can't be too careful in case the lines are being monitored.'

'Understood.' I nod my head.

'Also, by no means are you to say that you're a Special Ops Officer to anyone in ZAFT, to do so would mean that they start asking questions that we don't want to answer. If they do ask, you're an SSC Liaison Officer, nothing else.' Says Kinnsman. I didn't need them to tell me that, I might as well sign my own death warrant if I were to do that.

'Okay, but I've already been on the Minerva and some of them know who I am.' A legend would be useless. There are at least half a dozen of the officers who know that I was with Centre. Who knows, I might've been forgotten, but I can't risk it.

'Was that when you was with DISC?' Neil asks.

'Yeah.' I reply.

'Well, just tell them that you were promoted.' He tells me. I guess that could work.

'I was just saying in case you had a legend set up for me.'

'The Carpentaria Station has one for you to use when out and about among the locals, but when inside ZAFT installations use your SSC card. Flash it at them, tell them to keep their mouth shut, you know the drill.' Says George. 'Any equipment you might need you'll have to scrounge around for, but always ask the local station first, they might be able to get you the stuff you need.'

'All right, one other thing regarding kit, will I need to be armed?' I ask. I had grown used to carrying when in DISC for as dangerous as my job was on home turf. But now I was going on foreign turf, during wartime, possibly into a battlefield, where almost everyone, including ZAFT, is potentially an enemy to myself. I'm going to need something to make me feel the least but safe and secure.

'Usually you wouldn't. Special Ops is not about going in guns blazing. However you will be issued a sidearm at the Carpentaria Station. But do realise that you must use it as a last resort.' Explains Kinnsman. That goes without saying.

'Of course, I understand I did some close target recces in Special Forces, I know it's better to get a job done with as little or, better yet, without any contact with the enemy.' I say, sounding like a wannabe telling a professional how to do his job. I shouldn't have said that.

'Special Forces, ay? Aren't you so special.' George mocks me. I just eye him with a look to say that I'm going to kick his face in later. He just gives off a fat man's laugh.

'How am I going to get to Earth?' I ask, getting back on the topic to take my attention off George the arsehole.

'You'll be hitching a ride on a ZAFT supply shuttle that's departing from this colony at seventeen forty this evening.'

'That soon?' I ask with confusion.

'We want to get you at Carpentaria base before the Minerva docks there, it's currently heading there after being run out of ORB.' Says George.

'Is there anything else?' Kinnsman asks to any of us. George shakes his head slowly.

'Yeah, what about the situation with ZAFT?' I ask. I want to know how much I can let ZAFT in on, whether I can trust the regulars and just watch out for the mob from Intelligence.

'Neil will talk with you about that later on. Everything else is down on paper in this file' He pats the thick brown coloured file. 'It also includes all information on SSC stations, specs on the Minerva, bios on the crew etc. I want you to look it over this afternoon.' He slides the file across the table towards me. I stop it sliding by placing my hand on top of it before it falls off the end of the table.

'Okay. I'll get onto it right now. ' I look down at the brown cover for the file, written across the top is 'Operation Gleck', also stamped on the cover at an angle in red is 'Confidential'.

'Am I done now boss?' I hear George's voice ask. I look up.

'Yes, thank you George.' Kinnsman frees the arsehole from his burden. He plays with the controls for the display for a moment, gathers some of his papers and then walks around the table to the exit.

'Thank fuck that's over.' I hear George whisper as he leaves. I wait a few seconds and then turn my head to make sure that he's left. I lean over to Neil.

'Is he always like that?'

'He's been a little strung out the pass week.' He explains. I wasn't really convinced though. I'm not really here to make friends anyway.

'I want you away for the ZAFT depot at about…' Kinnsman looks at his watch '…four in the afternoon, so you have several hours to look over the file.' He leaves the room. I look to Neil.

'I'll leave you to it then.' Neil gets up from his chair and heads to the door.

'Hold on. What about the brief you're supposed to give me?'

'That's later on, for now just look over what you've got there.' He leaves through the door, closing it behind him. I look at my watch; the time is twelve minutes past ten. I better takes a look at these documents. I didn't quite like the sound of this mission. For someone who is awarded the title of 'Special Operations Officer', this mission doesn't sound like something one with that title would do. I suppose they could be starting me off with an easy mission to break me into job. But still, I remember George mention that I was a replacement for Jose, whoever he was, and that this op was originally meant for him. It doesn't matter though. I open the file.

After many hours spent reading through the file between cups of coffee, I was finally free. At half three I was lead away out of the Operations Room by Neil, but not before Kinnsman shook my hand and bid me a farewell as well as good luck. I never saw George again before I left, which was better really. We went back to his car that we had arrived in this morning, and took off past the main gate and back into the city. We had to stop by at his apartment so I could gather some of my things I had left there. It wasn't much; just some items that I figured would be useful for daily living. Once that was done we pulled out into the busy streets again, the ZAFT depot being the destination.

'Am I finally going to get my brief now?' I ask. I had already asked him twice before today. I didn't like how he kept telling me that he'd tell me later, and so on. He did mention that the reason it was going to be given so later before my departure was due to that what I'm going to be told is officially off the record, hence why it wasn't in this mornings briefing or the file that I read over a dozen times.

'Yes we've got some time yet.' I see him glance quickly at the car clock. I looked at my watch as well. I noticed that his car clock was five minutes fast. I open my mouth to mention it to him, but I remember that my mother did a similar sort of thing with hers. Except hers was three minutes fast. She said it was to assure that she'd arrive at work on time. 'Hang on a sec, I'll just pull into this lay-by first.' He says as he slows the car down using the brakes, indicates left that he's pulling in and brings the car to a halt between the pavement and the lines. He puts the car in neutral and switches the engine off. 'Where to begin?' He asks himself.

'The start is usually the best place.' I answer it for him.

'Cut it out Jack, this is serious.' He says sternly.

'Okay, go on.'

'Now it goes without saying that you must be very cautious with those in ZAFT. Although we doubt that ZAFT as a whole know about the current standoff, but we are sure that ZAFT Intelligence are more then aware.'

'Alright, so I have to watch out for anyone from their Intelligence branch.'

'Even so, you are to treat everyone with suspicion; ZAFT, the locals, even our own. We can't be too careful of moles at the moment. From both EAF, and ZAFT. You are to avoid all contact from their intelligence officers if possible.' They could try any number of things; they could try to make me a double agent, a mole for them, they could feed me false information to report back to my superiors. But even so I can do the same to them, unfortunately it'll be very risky on their turf, if I'm discovered they could arrest me for espionage, and I remember that the penalty for that during wartime is death. I'll have to play the game as I see fit.

'What if things get a little hairy?' I ask. Will I be able to return their fire?

'That's up to your own judgement. But be careful, they may try to stitch you up with anything, maybe even try to kill you.' That will explain why they would want a Special Ops Officer doing this job.

'Remember to be prepared to carry out any given missions whilst on Earth. That includes anything from escorting agents, screwing over ZAFT a few times, to even assassination. Would you be able to cope with that?' He asks concernedly.

'I've done it plenty times before.'

'In Spectre Detachment?' He pries on my war record.

'Yeah…' I reply, remembering my experiences my time in the unit. 'Actually I'm surprised that you managed to get me on a ZAFT ship in the first place.' I say to take my mind off the memories.

'Well, we do have our friends in ZAFT that either don't support the planned take over or don't know about it. And I don't think there's really anything else to tell other then use common sense, be professional and you should get through it.' He assures me. I nod as I look past the car window to observe the activities of the real people. Some are clustered around an electronics shop watching the news on multiple televisions on display on the shop window. Some look frightened; others look to involve themselves in some heated debates. The people have faced the possibility of total annihilation many times before yesterdays nuclear attack, the only difference being is that they have never known about the several attempts there have been made to destroy the PLANTs by Blue Cosmos, that have been prevented by the DISC. 'Let's go, time's getting on.' He turns the engine back on looks around, indicates that he's pulling, puts the car in first gear and pulls out of the lay-by slowly whilst there isn't any traffic coming.

'There is one last thing I want to ask you.'

'What's that?'

'George mentioned that I was a replacement for Jose, what happened to him?' I inquire.

'You eh… you wouldn't be interested.' He lies as I notice some colour disappear from his face.

'Oh I am interested, after all I am doing his job, he's still not around to show me the ropes, something happened to him. I think I deserve to know.'

'It's not pretty.' He chokes out.

'I still want to know.' I have to know, what could I be getting into. I know he doesn't want to piss me about this time, I think that he just doesn't want me on low morale just before I begin my first mission.

'Ok, he was dispatched to Libya on a mission two weeks ago, to investigate reports of a Blue Cosmos training camp in the area. Last report we got from Jose was that he was on the run from them in the Sahara desert. A few days ago, our Gibraltar Station reported that he had been captured and tortured to death. There wasn't anything we could do.' He tries to not let the tears flow. My stomach churns as I hear it; the memories of my captivity come trickling back slowly. I try to suppress the emotions with any memory I can, my troubles at school, even thinking back to the clinical depression I had would do. 'Funny that.' He continues. 'The last time we lost a Caretaker was over two years ago in the previous war. Now we lose our first man in two years.'

'What was he like?' I dig a little deeper.

'He was a professional, a natural at the job. A quiet man, not very sociable, kept himself to himself mainly. Although a little soft-spoken, but he was a good person, reliable and trustworthy.' He describes to me. I can feel myself relating to this character. Although I've already survived a very similar encounter, I don't think I could a second time.

After a few minutes the fence of the ZAFT base comes into view, running parallel with the road. Beyond the fence are the typical green buildings used to store anything from sleeping bags to mobile suit weaponry. We near the gate, currently manned by half a dozen ZAFT guards, most likely from the Military Police. Neil pulls the car to the left side of the road, just a hundred metres or so before the gate itself. I notice that two of the guards' faces watch us intently.

'That's it then. Go over to them, show the MPs your card, they should be expecting you, so don't worry about it. Don't talk to anyone; get on the shuttle, once at Carpentaria you should be met by someone from the local station. Okay?' He says sounding like instructions a mother would give to their child on the first day of school.

'Got it.' I answer him as I open the car door, taking my rucksack in by the handle from the car floor.

'Good luck, I'll buy you a drink once it's over.' It's rare of him to do that. A sign that we're might lose this war, or that either one of us won't be coming back.

'Just be sure that when it's over, that we're the winning side.' I tell him.

'Of course mate, of course.' He laughs a little. 'See yer.' He says.

'Be seeing you mate.' I close the car door. I sling the rucksack over my right shoulder as I watch him pull out back onto the road and speed away to whatever he's got to do. I take a breath and start my walk towards the gate.

_Endnote: Section Six completed. Sorry this took so long to get out. Section Seven should be coming out soon, hopefully by the end of the summer, but no promises to that. _


	7. Section Seven

_Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Seed Destiny or any of its characters. _

**A Spy to the Gods **

**Section Seven**

After I had flashed my card to the MPs at the gate. I had to sit around in there little hut for a while until some superior of there's came to collect me. I wasn't allowed to walk about freely on the base. I didn't really have much of a problem with that, but it was taking to long for this guy to arrive. After about twenty minutes of being on guard from the MPs offering their excuse for coffee to me, a black uniform eventually arrived with a false smile and generosity. I didn't return the gesture; I just stayed quiet nodding along with what he said, taking no real interest. I caught him saying that they were behind schedule with the loading of the shuttle and that the departure was to be delayed. I was getting bored very quickly, the black uniform tried to make conversation with me during the wait. I made sure that they didn't go anywhere with either single word replies or just grunts. I glanced at my watch every few seconds in annoyance. I had to get out of there soon.

It was about thirty minutes after I should've left on the shuttle, did things finally get on the move. Word came through that the lazy bastards were finally finished loading the shuttle and that I was to board the 4x4 to take me to the launch platform. The darkness was closing in over the base as the cool air rushed past my face in the open top 4x4. After a few minutes of being driven around in between the gigantic warehouse buildings, we reached the launching platform with the grey shuttle sitting waiting for me. I was waved a farewell from the black uniform; I didn't bother to return it though. I was led away by one of the crew to the insides of the shuttle. I was seated just outside of the cockpit of the shuttle, where the rest of the crew would lounge with me for the duration of the trip. I didn't think I'd have to be too careful with them, sleep through the trip to avoid all conversation with any of them. They kept relatively quiet, sleeping or whispering stuff between themselves. Between the periods of sleep I was able to pick up some whispers from some of them, who thought I was still sound a sleep, discussing who I was and what I was doing here. I had to try very hard not to laugh or even smile at some of their cock-and-bull theories.

I was awoken by a green uniform from ZAFT who said that we arrived. Through blurred eyes I glanced through the side window and was greeted with sunlight, real sunshine, not the artificial light like in the PLANTs. I gathered my small rucksack and followed the others to the shuttle exit. As soon as I stepped outside, the heat hit me like a blow to the face. I'd forgotten how hot it was on Earth. The elements make themselves known and the climate is unpredictable. Back in Special Forces, we used to place bets on what the weather would be the next day. To those on Earth it would be a strange thing to do, but since the weatherman on PLANT is _never_ wrong. Acclimatization to the Earth is relatively easy for the regular ZAFT soldier since they never stray far from the base, mobile suit or ship. The extra training for Special Forces was very hard though. Although coordinators are naturally fitter then the naturals it still takes plenty of training to get us up to standards, especially in jungles, deserts and tundra's, where as the PLANTs are all configured to have controlled temperate climates. The sun is bright too. I'll have to buy some sunglasses. I breathe in the warm humid air in distaste. I look around at the many static mobile suits, which await their masters for combat.

I need to find my contact, or rather he finds me. I feel hungry. I look at my watch; it's nine forty in the morning. I might be able to catch breakfast of some sort. I turn to someone who I think might know his way around here. He looks to be in his thirties with what looks to be a strong and solid build that makes him look quite wide even with his tall stature, underneath the light green overalls of a technician. He certainly wasn't on the shuttle with me just; there weren't any technicians with us on the shuttle. He reads over some papers on a clipboard.

'Hey!' I call to him. He looks up briefly from his clipboard and searches for where the voice came from, or wondering whether it was directed at all to him. He notices me, as he holds the clipboard by his side. He looks me over, probably deciphering who I am from the civilian clothing. He shrugs his shoulders at whatever his thoughts are.

'What can I do you for?' He says, trying to be cheerful.

'Do you know where I can get something to eat around here?' I ask.

'Rec' centre over there does some food.' He points to a large building over to his left. I glance over to where he points. About a few hundred metres away I can make out the clear glass entrance through the heat radiating off the black tarmac surface. The heat wouldn't be so bad if there was even a light and delicate breeze blowing, but Earth does not go easy on us outsiders so well.

'Thanks.' I nod to him. I turn away, sling my bag over my shoulder and walk briskly to the entrance. I should be looking for a contact from the local station. But then again they should be looking for me. I don't know my way around here, they should do, and they should also know that I arrived on this shuttle. Their fault if they're not here to meet me on time. I look up at the clear blue of the sky. I see a flight of seagulls flying overhead with squawk. I feel the heavy sun beat on my face and the back of my neck. I'm definitely going to have to do some shopping whilst here; sunglasses and sun block are a must. I can remember how badly sunburned I got whilst in Africa. It was worse if you got it on your shoulders and had to end up carrying a heavy Bergen rucksack for an entire days patrolling. No wonder the EAF made it a punishable offence to get sunburn, I believe they class it as self-harm, the punishment; thirty days in jail with no pay. The solution was something called P20. It was what soon became standard issue for Special Forces. The bronze liquid came in a bottle, which you'd spread over the skin evenly. The advantage of P20 over standard sun protection lotions, was that it would last all day, where as the other stuff wouldn't last that long or wasn't powerful enough against strong sunlight, providing you put it on about an hour before going out into sunlight. One problem I did find with it was that it would turn your skin slightly yellow, but once washed off (or rubbed off in some cases) it wasn't such a problem.

Although I'm sure I stand out amongst the uniforms, there should be some civilian contractors and workers on the base who wouldn't need to wear a uniform. I can blend in with them. I reach the clear entrance doors; they automatically slide open as I approach them. I pass through them and feel a great relief. The building has air conditioning! I feel the cool air cover my open skin. I take a look around; this place looks a lot like a shopping centre, actually it is a shopping centre. I recognise a number chain store names. It looks like you can buy anything here from clothes, cosmetics, to entertainment systems. They sure have it nice here, plenty of home comforts, they can't have much right to complain about being home sick. The only thing that doesn't make it look like a typical shopping centre; is that the ceiling is dark with high-powered lights giving illumination, instead of the usual glass roof that would bring in the colony's artificial light.

I see plenty of green uniforms prowling the place both on this level and on the upper level, with a few red uniforms dotted about as well as a few in civilian clothes. I casually walk down the centre, glancing left and right at the shops, mainly searching for a place to eat. A bit further on and I find a small place that looks like it I could get some breakfast. Just outside the entrance is a menu. I stand next to two soldiers as I scan through it. I look at my watch again, something didn't seem right.

'Excuse me, what time is it?' I ask the two soldiers. They look at me slightly confused for a moment. One of them looks at his watch on his wrist.

'Nearly two in the afternoon.' He replies 'Why do you ask?'

'I just arrived; need to set my watch to local time.' I explain. 'Thanks a lot.'

'It's our pleasure.' He says with a smirk. My mouth feels dry already; I could do with a refreshing drink now. Just a bit further down I see some sort of bar or drinks vendor. I step past the two soldiers and take a seat on one of the stools where the counter curves. I take the bag off my shoulder and drop it on the floor. Behind the counter is a woman serving two kids in technician overalls. I gesture to her with a smile and a nod. She comes over.

'What can I get for you?' She asks with a warm smile.

'Could you recommend something cool and refreshing?' I would usually go for a coffee to give me a get up and go I'll need, but the heat is getting to me

'Coke it is.' Sure, that'll do. 'And I suppose you'll want ice in that too?'

'Of course.' I smile and look around at my surroundings, keeping an eye out for my contact. I watch her she fetches out half a dozen ice cubes from a freezer and drop them into the glass. She then gets a bottle of coke from the fridge under the counter and pours it into the glass. She places the drink on the counter in front of me. This'll cure my thirst.

'That'll be two fifty.' Not too bad a price. I take out some change from my pocket and hand her the exact amount.

'Thanks.' I take a gulp of the cold and sweet liquid. I look to my watch; I need to set it forward by four hours. I play with the buttons to adjust the digital display.

'Are you a civilian contractor of some sort?' She asks. I finish adjusting the time and take a good look at her; she wears a purple shirt underneath a light green apron. She has short dark blue or black hair, and purple eyes.

'Yeah, sort of like that.' I hope she doesn't keep prying at me; otherwise I'll have to give her aggressive responses to stop her asking, and I don't want to do that to such a pretty lady. I take another swig of my coke.

'Say, you don't know if the Minerva has docked here yet, do you?' I ask.

'The Minerva...?' She folds her arms and stares at the ceiling for a moment. She gets back to me 'I think it has, I've seen a few new faces around here.'

'Say buddy.' A voice interjects. 'What interest would a civilian like you have with the Minerva?' It's the two technicians. The dark skinned one glares at me, whilst the other with an orange fringe just wolfs down a snack.

'And what concern would it be with you?' I fire a question back at them.

'We're crewmen from the Minerva.' He answers. If everyone on the Minerva is going to be this much of a shit with me, I'll have to rethink the operation.

'Oh right.' I say to him mockingly. I take another sip of coke. I stare at the wall to the right of the woman who served me, ignoring them on purpose. I can still see the pair out of the corner of my eye, the shit scowling at me.

'Are you a journalist?' The one with the orange fringe speaks with his mouth half full.

'Do I look like a journalist?' I narrow my eyes slightly, aimed at both of them.

'I don't know, are you a contractor?' He pries further.

'Sure.' I gulp down a little more of the coke, swallowing one or two half melted ice cubes.

'Mr Browning?' A voice behind me says. I freeze, and put the near empty glass on the counter. I shuffle myself around on the stool so I can face him. I'm greeted by a youngish man of perhaps my age, with combed back blonde hair.

'Yes?' I ask.

'Could I have a word with you?' He glances briefly at the two techs and the barwoman. 'In private?' This could be my contact.

'Sure.' I finish the last of my coke in one go, pick up my bag and follow behind him. He wears a creased striped shirt with the top button undone and the sleeves rolled up, suit trousers and black shoes. He leads me to a door marked 'staff only'. He fetches out a key from his pocket and unlocks the door with a dull click. He pushes the door open.

'Hold it.' I order him. He hesitates for a moment, stops in his tracks and turns around slowly, looking slightly confused at me with his yellow eyes. 'I want to see your card.'

He sighs and digs into his pocket, fetching out his card. I take a look at it closely, apart from a few small details, it resembles my own. 'Marco Spence, at your service. Now I'd like to see yours Mr Browning?'

'All right.' It's my turn to get my own out. I repeat his actions. He examines my card, nods and smiles to himself with satisfaction.

'Glad we've got that cleared up, Caretaker Six.' He says, calling me by my codename. 'I'm taking you to the station, where you'll be issued your kit.' He passes through the door into a dark hallway, illuminated by a single bulb. I follow him through. 'Please close the door behind you.'

I do as he says and close it to, peering through the doorway. I see a few ZAFT but they take no interest, too busy joking amongst themselves. I follow him through another door and down a metal staircase, making a clang noise with each step. At the bottom of the stairs we come to another door, illuminated by another single, but this time, red bulb above the door. At the side of the door is a control panel. He pushes a switch, which makes a high-pitched squeak sound for a brief moment.

'Name and number please?' Says a slightly garbled male voice from a speaker above the control panel. He pushes a button.

'Spence, Marco. 'Two nine four four five zero.' He speaks into an intercom. He releases his finger off the button and waits.

'Confirmed.' Comes the reply.

He turns to me 'You're turn.' He pushes the button in for me. Though I've gone through this type of security clearance procedures before, I'm not sure what the six-digit number was that Spence had told the door. I take out my card to look it over, there's a six-digit number imprinted on the card. I decide to read it off.

'Browning, Jack. Two six one three seven three.' I answer.

'Confirmed. Input code please?' Comes the next command. I have no clue to what that could be. Spence steps forward and inputs the code on the keypad. The door unlocks with a loud clang, and a lower pitched whirring can be heard. He pushes the steel door open and steps through. I follow him into another corridor, this time better lit though. At the side of the corridor is a window that looks like a security station. Through the glass, I notice the arsenal sitting on the racks behind the suit sitting at his desk.

'Welcome to the Carpentaria Station.' Spence says. The suit looks up from his magazine briefly to study my face. He goes back to his magazine again.

'An underground facility?' I can't get over how corny this looks. The rumours are true; gremlins do exist in some dungeon for the intelligence services.

'Yes. Specially built for us. Usually we'd have our stations located in a local town or city. But there isn't one nearby, so we paid the builders a little more to construct this for us to use.' He explains. 'We're pretty safe from an attack in here. There's a regulated air supply, emergency food storage too.'

'Does ZAFT know about it?'

'Of course, don't worry about this place being bugged though. It's got some of the best counter intrusion devices installed. I tell you, it'll take more then an electric drill to get in here, more like a jackhammer.' Even so, watchers only have to keep an eye on the one exit. After stepping through another door, we come to a large room, filled with desks, computers, and busy drones. It reminds me of the operations room at Thursgood, only on a smaller scale.

'Do you all live down here as well?'

'Only the security personnel have to, the rest of us live in the residential buildings with ZAFT. But we always have a few officers here on standby. Come this way please?' He asks as we weaves between desks. I follow. Strangely enough this place is well lit, has a mild temperature, and a clean smell. As I was going down the stairs earlier, I had the image of this place being drab, illuminated by dim lights, too hot, and to have that rotten, musty odour. I'm impressed.

We step through yet another door. This room looks like a storage room of some sort. Sitting on shelves are various bits and pieces of, well everything and anything. Clothing, laptops, cameras, binoculars, night vision goggles, maps, compasses, watches, mobile phones, radio systems, etcetera. We work our way past the shelves to the end of the room, where we find a lone man well into his fifties, wearing a heavy brown workers overcoat, toying with the guts of a computer with thick workers hands, under the illumination of a desk light.

'Hello Johnny.' Says Spence. The grey haired man jumps slightly, looks to us cautiously. 'Have you got the kit for Caretaker Six prepared?'

'Yeah.' He says with short slur. He leaves the computer on the table, and walks over to a locker. He punches in a code slowly with his fat fingers, and opens it up. He pulls out a black shoulder bag, and places it on the table. He unzips it. I step around Spence to get a better look. 'It's all here.'

'What exactly though?' I ask.

'You've got a laptop computer to use to store data. You can also send and receive encrypted messages from Thursgood House or any of the stations. The messages can be decrypted and encrypted using the installed software on it.' I peer inside the bag; I can make out the laptop computer in a special bag for it inside the sports one. 'It's key code protected. When you start it up, it'll ask for a password; the password is…' He picks up a bit of paper. ' "One delta nine zero four alpha bravo two two quebec." Say it back to me.'

'One delta nine zero four alpha bravo two two quebec.' I repeat. He puts the scrap of paper into his pocket.

'It's important that you don't forget it.'

'Of course.'

'Once logged on, you can change the password if it becomes compromised. If you do get into problems, to destroy the hard drive there's a ring on the bottom of it underneath a sticker. To destroy it, pull the ring hard and the small explosives should destroy the hard drive. Just be careful where you put your hands if you do it, and not to pull it by accident, though I shouldn't worry about that too much, it takes quite a strong tug to do it. There's a PDA that can have tactical information from either the computer or a satellite uploaded onto it, like ground maps, GPS coordinates, etcetera. There's also a digital camera that you can also use to upload pictures onto the computer, and send them to Thursgood. It also works as part of your legend. There's a mobile phone with world network service, but unfortunately you can't get a hold of PLANT or Thursgood on it. Numbers for stations and emergency response are already set on it.'

'Do I get instruction manuals with all these?' I ask with concern. I'm not an idiot when it comes to computers or electronics, far from it. But I'm not the technical genius that designed, built, and decided on the astronomically high price for each of these gadgets 'Q' bestows on me.

'They all come in the box as new, manuals included. You also get a nine-millimetre pistol, three mags, a box of fifty soft point nine-millimetre rounds, a sound suppressor that you can screw onto the barrel directly without any other attachments, a cordura pancake type holster, and a double pistol magazine pouch, they should fit on your standard trouser belt no problem. Try not to have too much fun with it, ZAFT and the local police get a little nervous.'

'Of course.' It'll do. I think I can get away with the pistol, but the suppressor I'll have to keep hidden from ZAFT, if they find it they'll get jumpy thinking I'm some sort of an assassin.

'And you're legend to use when with the local populace is in there as well. Roger Sweeney, independent journalist from Copernicus City. Papers include passport, universal drivers license, and press card. Also, do please guard these with your life, it's taken quite a while to prepare this stuff?' He asks of me lazily as he picks up a clipboard with some papers attached to it. 'Sign for it please?' He holds the clipboard out in front of me in one hand and a pen in the other. I take both off his hands, read the document briefly, and sign at the bottom of it, then hand it back to him.

'Don't worry about it.' I say as I zip the bag back up and heave the heavy bag onto my right shoulder along with my rucksack. 'Is that it then? Nothing else?'

'That's it from me sonny.' Says the old man. He goes back to his computer.

'I've got nothing else to say. Except good luck.' Spence holds out his hand. I grasp it and shake it firmly with my own hand. He isn't that much of a pain in the arse. Certainly better then some of the dickheads I've had to put up with the past twenty-four hours.

'Thanks, can I make my own way out?'

'Sure, just shut the door behind you.' I don't really need reminding of that. As long as it keeps him happy.

'Of course, be seeing you.' I say to both of them.

'See you.' Spence waves farewell, Q doesn't, he just continues working on his computer. I make my way back, retracing my steps. Through the door to the large room, and back into the corridor towards the security station at the exit.

'I'm leaving now.' I tell the security man behind the bullet-proof glass window, he looks up from his magazine again.

'All right.' He says as he pushes a button. The dull whirring starts again; I pull the heavy door open. The whirring ceases, as I step through and close it behind me. If there's something I've forgotten to ask to Spence or Q, I better remember it before I reach the final door, once that doors closed, I'm going to have serious trouble getting back to them. I climb up the steps, trying to keep my bags from banging against the metal railings. I get to the top and open the door back into the drab corridor. I look behind me for shadows, there's plenty. It's not really shadows I need to look for though, it's those who hide in the shadows. But still, they might as well be shadows.

Last chance now, I open the last door. I step through side ways so that none of my bags would knock against the doorframe. I close the door behind me, and look about to see the virtually the same ZAFT soldiers from before. Though you can never tell. A uniform is a uniform at the end of it. My priority now is to get onboard the Minerva, but since I don't know my way around here I'll have to ask some of soldiers without drawing their attention too much that they start asking _me_ the questions. I need to do some shopping first though, I'll think of something in the mean time.

I look at my watch; it's ten to three. I've spent the last three quarters of an hour increasing the burden on my right shoulder. I did a little shopping for some more bland looking civilian clothes. Nothing fancy, plain jeans, some lightweight walking trousers, a couple of dark plain t-shirts, and a pair of Oakley sunglasses. Other bits I picked up were a leatherman multi-tool, mini maglite torch, and a pair of Magnum boots.

I was able to stuff most of the items into both the sports bag and the rucksack, apart from the boots, as the box was too big. As the load on my arms and shoulders increases, the weight of my wallet lightens. I've given my card more then a decent workout today.

I finish the cheeseburger and coke quickly enough. I've always had a small appetite, so at least I can keep the cost of meals low. I still need to get the P20 sun block though. I stand up from the metal table, slide the complimenting metal chair under the table, and pick up my bags. I better go find a place that sells cosmetics of some sort.

I walk around between the civilian shop assistants stacking and the uniforms shopping for face cream or deodorant. Bad odour, bad breath, and dirt are no longer standard issue for regulars anymore. I browse over the shelves for the sun protection products. I find what I'm looking for eventually. I pick up a the box the stuff comes in, I look at the label quickly just to make sure, then I pick up another box. I might as well get two in case I'm at sea longer then I should be. I go to pay for them at the pay counter. There is a small queue of two girls, conversing with each other whilst one them has her goods scanned and weighed up. The one in the green uniform, red hair and pigtails finishes paying, collects her bags and dashes off to the sliding door exit quickly, sets her bags down and waits for her friend, the one in the red uniform and short pink skirt. It's more of a wide belt really, something to look at, if it's looking back that is. She drops her basket into the pile of baskets and the lady at the counter starts scanning her purchases. The girl in the red uniform has her back turned to me, her short purple hair shining from the lights overhead, I see her friend looking this way, I don't look back to her, I just stare off to nowhere. The girl in front hands a debit card over, she glances my way briefly, then looks back to the girl at the till. She hesitates for a moment before inputting her pin number for the card. She looks back at me again.

'Don't I know you?' She asks to me. My mind thinks back to where I could've met her. Click, the Minerva. I should've realised it sooner, it wasn't that long ago, but with so much going on the past week, I've had, and still have, too much on my mind.

'Sort of.' I tell her. She gets her debit card back and picks up her plastic carrying bags. She turns away and shrugs. A small plan forms in my head; tag along. 'We met on the Minerva a week or so ago.' I say rather too quickly, it makes me sound desperate. 'Just after it launched from Armoury One.' She turns around, looks at me blankly for a moment. Probably trying to remember exactly when and where. She raises her eyebrows and takes a short yet semi sharp intake of breath; it's not quite a gasp.

'Yes that's it!' She nearly shouts, almost too loud. I force a small and brief smile at her carelessness. Her expression hardens a little. 'What are you doing here though?' She asks, probably referring to the fact that Centre doesn't have jurisdiction outside of PLANT.

'Oh…' I hesitate a little. I know what she meant; the last she heard was that I was with Centre still. I ought to give her an answer; the trouble is how to word it. 'I've been promoted, as a matter of fact…' I take a breath '… I'm expected on the Minerva, are you heading there now?'

'Excuse me?' An annoyed voice to my right says. I turn my head; it's the blonde till lady. 'Are you going to pay for those or not?' She raises and eyebrow. I better pay for the stuff, then carry on my conversation with the pink wide belt. I hand the two boxes of P20 to the till lady. She finishes scanning both of them. I place the bag with my boots in on the floor, so I can get to my wallet easily. I get my card out and hand it to her; she puts it into the slot and moves the keypad a little nearer to me. I punch my four-digit number in. Transaction done. I get my card back, a receipt and another small plastic carry bag. I drop it into the larger carry bag, receipt as well; then pick the larger bag up. I don't get a smile from the till lady. I look back to the girl. She stands by the exit, talking to her friend with the pigtails. I edge a little close to them; I notice the one in pigtails steps behind the wide belt, almost in fear or apprehension of my presence. It isn't an obvious movement, but I notice it all the same. The wide belt also wears black stockings, she must be single, stockings are a myth and a rarity to single women, non-existent to those in a relationship. Nice arse too.

'As I said, are you heading to the Minerva now?' I ask them. 'See, I've just arrived and I don't know my way around here very well.'

'Can I ask you something?' The wide belt shoots back. I'm tempted to be a little bit of a smart arse to her, but that wouldn't gain much ground with them. I've already annoyed two techs from the Minerva, it isn't an idea to make as many enemies as I can, they don't help when I'm strung up. But it's difficult to make friends when you have to keep your mouth shut.

'Sure.'

'Can you explain the reason for you to be expected on the Minerva?' She inquires as she rest her knuckles on her hips.

'Only if we walk there whilst I explain, these bags are starting to strain my shoulder.'

'Fine.' She shrugs and sighs to my deal. They both start to walk off, passing the exit. I catch up keeping a little left and ahead of them, keeping watch at them in the corner of my eye.

'Do you want my life story or just the necessities?' I ask, looking straight ahead. I have to step a little slower and shorter then I normally would for them to keep up. They're both a little shorter then myself.

'I think we might find your life story a little boring.'

'Good, I didn't want to have to lie. As I said before, I've been promoted from the domestic service to the foreign service, similar job to the one before. I'd prefer not to but I can show you a card of proof if you like?' This is risky; I have to explain it to them without using words like 'DISC' or 'SSC', in public at least. We near the exit to the shopping centre; I squint at the sunlight coming in through the clear doors.

'I don't think it really matters.' She says.

'You don't believe me?' I ask as I step through the door way to the heat and bright sun of the outside. She remains silent. 'Which way to now?' I ask them, I've got no real clue where I'm going here, it's not that I'm useless at this, I could find out myself, but it'll take too long.

'It's this way.' She veers off to the left. I follow a little behind of the two, who walk side by side. These two could be related to each other.

'The full story, it's been suggested by the National Defence Council that the Minerva could do with outside assistance on "certain intelligence matters" So "our man Jack" was sent to help.'

'I see.' Says the one in pigtails.

'My name's Jack by the way, Jack Browning.' I tell them with a smile.

'Well, I'm Lunamaria Hawke, and this is my sister Meyrin.' Says the one in the pink skirt.

'I thought it when I first saw you two, that you're both related to one another. And what is it that you two do? Now I'm sure that you're a mobile suit pilot.' I point to Lunamaria. The red uniform is more then a give away, I had one myself, and I hated that uniform. The whole pretentiousness of it, very boastful and outspoken sort, thought they were gods. That attitude got many of them killed, the genius that thought up of the idea that they wore red must've had a sense of humour, since so many of them ended up as fodder. Good riddance I say.

'Yeah, that's right. I pilot a Zaku Warrior.' She says with a proud smile. I roll my eyes.

'I work in CIC. The Combat Information Centre.' Says Meyrin. It's true that children fight wars now. Maybe it's the pigtails but she doesn't look any older then fourteen.

'How long have both of you been in ZAFT?'

'Only a few months, the Minerva is our first posting.' Says Lunamaria. We tread on the hot, dry tarmac between mobile suit hangers with the Zaku types standing erect and tall just outside of them, as the technicians fiddle with the expensive toys in the blistering heat.

'Did you both join together?'

'Yeah.' That's good for them I suppose. At least there's one set of siblings in the world that can get along together with little dispute. I'd sooner throttle my own sister.

'Is this your first time on Earth?' I ask to keep the conversation going, providing that I ask the questions.

'Yeah.' Nods Lunamaria.

'How are you finding it?' I ask, recalling my first time on Earth, first time on Carpentaria too, and that was during the battle that took place to first construct this base.

'It's really hot here. So much warmer then home.' Sighs Meyrin as she wipes her forehead with her free hand. I feel the sweat building around my brow as well.

'Yeah I remember when I first came here, the heat, and the dust gets to you at first, but you get used to it after a while.' I assure her.

'That's good.' She smiles a little.

'When were you last here?' Lunamaria asks.

'About two or three years ago, during the war.'

'Were you in ZAFT then?' Meyrin digs for answers. I don't want to give too much away about myself, but it isn't the right technique to close myself off completely.

'Yes, I fought in tiger stripes for most of it.' I explain, hinting the Special Forces link. Tiger stripe camouflage was the issue to Special Forces during the previous war. The standard issue for ZAFT is the olive drab uniform that Meyrin wears.

I hear a roar of an engine of some sort from behind; it's distant but getting louder as whatever it is approaches. I look over my shoulder. It's not loud enough to be from one of the mobile suits on the ground. The noise gets louder. I look back to the two girls, they too have stopped and looking around for the source of the noise. It's a mobile suit, dark red in colour. It passes overhead. I look on with less interest then the two, who look on with blind astonishment.

'I've never seen that type before.' Gawps Meyrin, as she shields her eyes from the sun using her hand. Her sister does the same.

'Me neither, it looks like it's landing at the Minerva. Let's go see who the pilot is!' Lunamaria exclaims excitedly as she starts to quicken her pace. Her sister follows suit to catch up. I decide to hang back; I'm in no rush. I watch them, Lunamaria is out of sight before I know it, Meyrin stops and glances my way. She waits for me. I try to quicken my pace a little under the heavy weight on my shoulder. I catch up to her eventually.

'Thank you for waiting, at least one of you has a long enough attention span to remember me.'

'S-Sorry sir.' She stutters and droops her head shyly, being modest.

'Don't worry about it.' I assure her with a smile. She looks up, forces a smile on her face and nods.

'It's just here now.' She says. We cross the next corner and the enormous grey battleship comes into view. The gangway is just a few hundred metres away. MPs stand guard at the entrance to it, rifles at the ready. I feel a little sorry them, standing there for hours on end in this heat wearing a Kevlar, body armour, and a rifle slung over the shoulder. Serves them right though, should never had been an MP if they didn't want to do that, but it could be considered the safer option nowadays.

'Fuck this man, I want out of here, you know what we need? A fucking good banzai charge! Get at them with a bayonet on the end my rifle and stick into the natural fuckers cock, they'd squeal like a little piggy.' I hear a GI Joe in a squeaky teenage sound feign his toughness. As we get closer I see that he's a baby face with acne under the rim of the Kevlar. He couldn't be any older then Meyrin, however young she is. The military system is fubar.

'Shut the fuck up short ass, we've got visitors.' One of the older MPs scolds the boy soldier from his little hut at the side of the gangway. A sign on the hut say 'All identification must be shown!' in big, bold letters underlined too. They only way they could make it more clear is if it's in neon lights too.

'Yeah, yeah.' Moans the boy soldier. 'Can I see your identification please?' He sighs with boredom. Meyrin gets hers out and shows it to him, he takes it off her, has a quick look himself then hands it back to her. 'All right, you can go.' He says. Meyrin walks a few metres onto the gangway; the boy soldier's eyes follow her arse. I step closer to him, just so that I'm within one metre of him, invading his personal proximity. The GI Joe turns his head sharply, and jumps back in surprise. 'Who the fuck are you?' He almost screams, as he hastily gets his rifle in his hands. I offer him my card. He snatches it off me as if he's feeding some vicious animal. As he looks it over I can make out an eyebrow raised. He glances up at me and back to the card, and again, and again, trying to piece a puzzle together. He turns to his friend. 'Hey, come look at this?'

'What?' His friend shouts from the hut.

'You _need_ to come look at this?'

'All right, I'm coming.' He steps out from the shadows of the hut into the blinding sunlight. Meyrin edges back towards me.

'Is there a problem sir?' She asks with some concern.

'Nothing to worry about, and you don't have to call me "sir".' I smile reassuringly. The two MPs crowd over the card. 'I'm expected on the Minerva, call the head of security, he'll see you right.' The older one nods, snatches my card from the little one and goes back to his hut. My attention turns back to the action man.

'So… are you James Bond or something?' He asks, cocking his head back so he thinks he's looking down on me. With his short size he shouldn't be too far off from breaking his neck with the bottom edge of the Kevlar.

'Something.' I answer. He sneers. I can hear footsteps approach from behind; quite close as I can hear them over the machinery making it's maintenance and repairs. I snap my head around to see a red uniform step past me and up to the boy soldier. He's only a kid himself, I remember him vaguely from before, the angry one who stormed past me in the corridor. He shoves his identification in front of the boy soldier.

'Hey, Meyrin.' The red uniform greets her.

'Hi Shinn, did you see that red mobile suit fly overhead?' She asks. The boy soldier nods and hands the identification back to Shinn.

'Yeah, I'm going to check it out.' He says nonchalantly. 'You coming?'

She looks at me for a moment then back to Shinn, deciding on whether to wait for me or carry on. 'All right, see you later, Jack.' She makes her mind up.

'Yeah, be seeing you.' I say, as they both walk swiftly down the gangway to the Minerva.

'Oh man, it's so fucking hot I can't even spit.' GI Joe says while scraping the sole of his boot on the tarmac, making a grinding sound between boot and loose bits of gravel. I roll my eyes and look away. After a minute or two passes I place my bags carefully on the hot tarmac floor, I flex my right arm out and making small circles in the air with a bent arm. That's a relief, to finally get that weight off my shoulder. 'Whatcha been shopping for then?' He motions with his rifle, still in his hands, towards my bags.

'Nothing that you'd be interested in.' I look past him. Meyrin and the red shirt are out of sight now.

'I bet that watch of yours shoots a laser right?'

'Shut it!' I snap at him 'You are never to mention that I was here to anyone.' I inform him with a sharp tongue. His eyes narrow and he scowls at me. 'I could have it that you'd be doing the guard shift here permanently. Do we understand each other?'

He grunts, and turns away, deciding to do a little patrol of about five metres in the opposite direction to myself, facing down the gangway. The older MP emerges from the hut.

'All clear sir, no worries.' He says as he hands the card back to me.

'Thank you.' I start to pick up my bags.

'What the fuck are you doing facing that way?' I hear the older MP bark. GI Joe spins around on his heels.

'Watching for any intruders.' Explains GI Joe.

'And where are intruders more likely to come from?'

'That way.' He points towards me.

'Then why are you facing the fucking opposite direction then?' The older MP shouts at GI Joe with frustration. I walk past them and onto the gangway. I smile whilst my back is to them. I start to snicker and laugh hard for the first time in a long while. Those two could be the next Laurel and Hardy.

I close the door behind me and drop all the bags on the bed. It's the same as it was before, grey, boring. Two beds, so I have the choice of what side of the bed I can get up from in the morning, some shelves for books or anything else. There's a desk at the foot of each bed as well as a complementary high backed chair, and a fixed slim line computer attached to each desk. The desks are covered with a light layer of dust. I brush my hand over it, making a clear mark. I look at my hand; it has a layer of dust on it. I brush the hand off with my other, beating them both together.

It was rather fortunate that the red mobile suit arrived on the Minerva at roughly the same time I did. It drew attention to itself; I was able to slip in with little trouble. I had to report to the security station first, where Brener met me again. We had little to say to each other, strictly business talk. He gave me a lecture on the what to do's, what not to do's, where I can go, where I can't. He was even nice enough to give me a little paper map of the ship so I wouldn't have to keep asking directions. I didn't think it would be of much help, though it did help me find my way to these quarters. Before I left, I was told that Captain Gladys wanted an audience with me later, just to explain it to her. I then asked a favour of him, the idea was to make my presence known here in a subtle way, nothing specific, just spread an instruction by whispers. 'There's a man in civilian clothes on the ship, you are not to ask this person questions, you are advised not to talk to this person unless he talks to you first. You must not hound or bully this person to who he maybe. Any problems? Take them to the Captain or XO.' This should quell people's open curiosity on the subject, but it most likely won't, for some it'll make them more curious.

I better unpack some of my things. I move all bags aside apart from my black sports bag I received earlier today. I unzip the bag, a little too much like a giddy child about to open his presents on Christmas morning. I'll take a look at the goodies Q gave me. I take out an opened cardboard box for a Nokia mobile phone, and place it on the bed. There's the box for the PDA, box for the Fuji film digital camera, the slim line bag with the laptop computer inside, the box of nine-millimetre ammunition, a sealed jiffy bag with what I presume is my legend documents, and at the bottom is a black plastic box with a carry handle. I open the plastic box up; inside the cutaway is a Heckler and Koch USP Compact, three magazines in their own cutaway as well as a sound suppressor. In the box loose is a pancake type holster and the double pistol mag pouch. USP stands for Universal Self-loading Pistol, a polymer pistol of German efficiency and reliability. Available in four calibres; nine-millimetre, forty Smith and Wesson, forty-five Automatic Colt Pistol, and three fifty-seven SIG. This comes in nine-millimetre, the calibre I prefer. Though the USP is nearly a century old design, it's still an excellent pistol even by modern standards. Old maybe, but even some in ZAFT still use the Glock for it's unique safe action trigger mechanism, I used one back in Centre, and I've heard that some units in the EAF still use the Colt Forty-Five, or at least one of the many copy's available, that design is well over one hundred and fifty years old now.

I pick the USP up from the box; it feels hefty in my hand. I examine it closely; the famous H&K markings are clear on the left of the slide. It's got the standard safety configuration, which is the safety/decoking lever on the left side of the pistol, to operate with them thumb on my right hand. It can come in ten variations to suit the needs of any shooter. I notice just inside the end of the barrel is a thread to screw on the complementing sound suppressor. It's got some wear on the safety lever, slide release, and the ambidextrous magazine catch. I grip it firmly in my right hand and I rack the slide to the rear against the power of the internal spring, flick the slide release up and hold it there as I let go of the slide, it stops as it gets caught by the slide release. I examine the empty chamber using the seven point check; front, centre, rear, front, centre, rear, front. Check and check again, safety first. I see no shine from any brass cases or rounds. I push the slide release down letting the slide ride forward under it's own steam with a snap. The bobbed hammer is cocked back, I test the decocking lever by pushing it down with my right thumb, the hammer drops but stops before hitting the firing pin. I pull the hammer back into the cocked position. I push the lever into the up position, activating the safety. I try to squeeze the trigger but it is as stiff as a rock. I deactivate the safety, and squeeze the trigger again, pointing the gun in as safe a direction I could point it, this time the hammer rams home with a distinct click. Well that works. Each of the three magazines can hold thirteen rounds, so in total that gives me thirty-nine shots if the shit hits the fan. The magazines also came with a choice of bottom plates, standard and another set with finger rests to help with keep a stable firing platform, it did compromise the compactness of the USP though. It all comes down to if I prefer conceal ability or better firing platform. I'll have to try it out on the range at some point. I take the cordura holster and stuff the pistol into it. It fits well, and the adjustable thumb break has even been adjusted to the USP's size. Like the USP the holster is also ambidextrous to either be worn on either side of the body. I undo my belt and slip the holster on the outside of my belt. I fasten my belt back up, and jump around a little it feels a little loose against my body. I know what I need to do. I remove the holster from my belt and put it back on but on the inside of my belt. It fits much better this time, more secure against my hip. It might be an idea to ditch the thumb break; I can see that it'll slow my draw down. I repeat the process this time removing the thumb break. Not bad, the belt on the outside of it also gives it retention against my hip.

I do a little practice draw, flicking back my jacket quickly, gripping the USP, and pushing it out in front of myself, whilst I adopt the two handed weaver shooting stance. That'll do. If the sound suppressor is attached, that slow my draw down ever more, it'll be like drawing a hand cannon. I take the holster off my belt. I attach the suppressor to the USP, screwing it on to the thread until it gets tight. I shake the pistol a little, looking and hearing for any wobbles. It seems ok. I remove the suppressor and put everything back into its box. I hear a buzz, it's coming from the door. I step to the door and press the button for the intercom.

'Yes?' I speak into it.

'Brener here sir.'

'What is it?'

'The Captain would like to see you now.'

There I sit in the Captain's room once more. This time with a Malt Scotch she offered me, as well as slimy executive officer Arthur Trine. The room is well lit. I notice a small tree growing in the corner of the room; I try to hold back a snicker, just creasing my face whilst lightly biting on my tongue. I feel that my kit has been left a little exposed in my room; I can't shake off this feeling that I've been lured away for someone to do some snooping. Even though I locked the door behind me, someone can just as easily hack into it. I didn't have any sellotape either, stick some on the corner of the door bridging it over the small gap between the door and the frame, if it's broken when you get back, it's a tell tale sign that someone's been intrusive.

'A promotion then?' She asks, possibly feigning her interest as she sits at her desk, facing me at an angle from her large chair.

'Something like that.'

'You're not the only one.' Arthur interjects rudely. I give him a brief glare whilst keeping my head stationary. I take a short sip of the Malt. I shouldn't though, not after the last time I drank alcohol. But I'm not that much of an idiot to pass up a free Malt Scotch.

'Arthur, step outside.' Orders the Captain, a slight hint of annoyance in her voice.

'Yes Ma'am.' He stands to and nearly marches his way to the door. I stay silent until the door closes behind.

'I sure do miss that parade ground manner.'

'I don't think you do really. I read you're file.' She says raising an eyebrow.

'If it's the one in the ZAFT archives, I'm afraid it's a few years out of date. Anyway, what did your XO mean by that I'm "not the only one"?'

'Not twenty minutes ago was I informed that I've been assigned a position as part of FAITH by the Chairman.' She sighs. I've heard of them, the Fast Acting Integrated Tactical Headquarters, or simply FAITH. A status awarded to members of ZAFT with impeccable war records and brilliant character qualities, reporting directly to the Supreme Council and the Chairman.

'Well, here's to your promotion.' I raise my glass to her.

'And yours.' She copies my gesture with her own glass of Malt.

'When I received a wire this afternoon saying to expect an SSC liaison officer to "assist and advise on certain intelligence matters", I didn't think it would be you.' She says, almost in disbelief.

'Well Captain I'm just here to help. Could I get a copy of situation reports as they come? Unedited of course and on paper.' Even a small minute details can be very useful. I don't want chopped up version with this and that blacked out because the military say that it's sensitive information. As for having it on paper rather then on a memory stick or CD is so that anyone can't secretly upload any spying software too look into and trace my system, however this means I'll have to copy the reports word for word from paper, then send them onto Thursgood.

'I suppose so.' She sounds almost reluctant. I take another sip of the Scotch from the glass, neat and dry.

'So who was it that arrived in the mobile suit a few minutes ago? I have to thank him for making my arrival less conspicuous.'

'You wouldn't believe me if I told you.' She creases her face.

'I bet I've heard more unbelievable things then what you're about to tell me.' It's the strength that I deal in lies.

'Athrun Zala.' She says before she finally takes a gulp of her drink, downs it in one too. Coughs a little and scrunches up her face in disgust. 'Not really my drink of choice, a present from a beloved ex, but it's good when there's guests like yourself.'

'Re-enlisted?' I ask, referring to Athrun Zala's arrival here. She stares at the wall, her mind elsewhere.

'Hmm…? Oh yes, funny thing is that he went to Orb in the Saviour first, he didn't realise that they had joined the Earth Alliance until they opened fire on him.' She says with a small laugh. I don't reply, even I didn't know that. Orb had always adopted a neutral stance. This is surprising. I nod as I struggle a snicker, feigning that I did know and found the situation moderately humorous. 'We learnt the hard way too, after we first landed here. We docked at Orb for repairs, as soon as war was declared we were ran out with their military chasing us out and the Earth military waiting on the doorstep to ambush us. Can't say I'm surprised though. The Alliance is pressuring all of Earths nations to join them. A number of countries within the Eurasian Federation have declared independence because of the pressure. It's causing a number of insurrections across the Balkans and southern Eurasia.'

'I imagine the Kremlin are stamping down on them with their heels.' That would be the heel of a mobile suit.

'Quite literally. I read you've operated around Eurasia?' Going back to my file again. I can guess that it refers to the time when I was in Siberia and Afghanistan in the new year of CE71. I'm sure that she doesn't have the clearance to view my operations for Spectre Detachment.

'I've seen enough of it to know I wouldn't want to return if I can help it.' I recall some of the horrors and hardships I had to endure throughout the war in that cruel and unforgiving climate. 'What are your current orders?' I ask to take my mind off the memories.

'We're to support the ZAFT forces at Gibraltar in the assault on the EAF base at Suez.' As she tells me I nod along with what she's saying.

'EAF still have those mobile suits stolen from Armoury One?' I ask. She nods defeated. 'Thieving little bastards.' I curse under my breath. I finish the last of the drink and try not to slam the glass on her desk.

'I ought to be going now. Thanks for the drink, your ex has very good taste.' How tempted I am to say 'and I'm not just talking about the drink.' I keep my mouth shut.

'All right then, see you around.' She says, as I stand up and about to exit through the door.

'Be seeing you.'

_Endnote: Section Seven completed. Too long? Well, it's the longest chapter yet. Please read and review. Now that I've started writing on some of the Destiny character, I need some constructive criticism on whether I've got their character about right or whether they're out of character. Although it's early days yet, early indicators can help me keep the characters on form. You can expect Section Eight very soon as I'm already halfway through writing it. _


	8. Section Eight

_Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Seed Destiny or any of its characters. _

**A Spy to the Gods **

**Section Eight**

The Minerva launched without haste, same day I arrived. Heading out into the Indian Ocean it was announced. Not alone though, there was support in the form of a Vosgulov-class attack submarine carrier, the Nyiragongo.

I'll have to keep adjusting my watch, edging closer to Greenwich Mean Time. A condition red was issued a few hours ago. Nothing much happened, not for me anyway. I was busy playing with a few of my new toys, including the figuring out of the laptop I had been issued. Charging up the batteries to almost everything; mobile phone, laptop, digital camera and PDA.

I also had a good look over the legend of Roger Sweeney as well; the picture they had used for the passport and drivers license were the same ones I had for my real passport and drivers license, the former I had renewed just the past year and the latter was a terrible picture that I had taken when I got my drivers license six years ago. Mr Sweeney is a natural, born and raised on the lunar city of Copernicus, attended the school and college there. Got a degree in journalism, started off as a regular journalist and paparazzi selling news and photos to small time newspapers. Decided to go to Earth at the outbreak of war to follow it on the ground. All the documents are slightly worn, to make them look used. As well as those I have postcards, letters from a supposed grandmother in Copernicus, most likely she's an asset living at the address in the letters to help ensure my legend to any curious visitors.

This is messy though. The legend is very sketchy; I've got to weave in and out of two personalities from when I enter or leave ZAFT bases and into the open crowd. It's workable though, for now I just keep my genuine documents on me, until I go out into the local population, change from Jack to Roger, make sure my SSC card isn't seen by the locals and there should be no problem, after all Caretakers don't take part in long term undercover operations that would require a detailed legend.

Something they neglected to inform me about earlier was another ID card at the bottom of the jiffy bag. It's in my own name, same picture, but it states that I'm from the Martius Arsenals Field Research Group. I'm guessing a front organisation. My guess is that I use this among the ZAFT base, so I don't have to keep revealing my true job to everyone, unless I get into some serious trouble. I wish they had told me at Carpentaria though, so I didn't have to have all the trouble with the guards, Brener, Lunamaria or Meyrin. As for the Captain and XO, I would've had to tell them. I guess it doesn't matter though; I can use it from here on out. I've just got to make sure that the small group of crew that do know don't allow the group to grow any larger then necessary.

This whole job was sloppy. My recruitment, it was too easy. No vetting, no medical, no psychoanalysis whatsoever. No meeting with the Chief of Service, or even the Deputy for that matter. For such a role and job of a sensitive nature, I'm surprised that it went so quickly; I would've thought it'd take months of selection and training. But I guess with the war on, it would've been over by the time I was finally finished. They wanted me now; they wanted me in the shit right away. I was picked up on recommendation by Neil, supposedly before ZAFT did. I think I'm in one of those situations where I have no clue whether I'm on the right side or not, not only in the scope of the quarrelling between rival intelligence services, but also in the war as a whole. We, the average grunt, believed we were fighting for what was right, that we were the good side, after all the EAF did fire nukes at us, but then we almost killed everyone on Earth in the name of our defence. I don't really know what or who to believe anymore. A man can't live like that however; I reluctantly go along with the situation, but with a sharp sense of caution.

After a few rumbles and tumbles, evasive manoeuvres and the odd explosion I could hear from my quarters, we were returned to condition yellow. I just laid my head on a pillow almost the entire time, what more could I do? I suppose it would've been an idea to top up my magazines. I hadn't even done that yet. I might as well do it now. I take out that plastic box from under the bed and place it on the bed. I also take out the box of ammunition from the sports bag and drop that on the bed too. I open both of the boxes, undoing the latch on the pistol box and flicking it open. I then slide off the cardboard lid, revealing the tips of the rounds equally spaced, stood to like a formation of soldiers on parade awaiting their orders. I take the three magazines, and sit them on the desk. No, wait. I think it might be best if I load the magazines with gloves on. If I load them barehanded, I'd be leaving my fingerprints on the bullet casings, either I'd have to collect the empty cases after use, a tedious and time consuming task, or risk having my identity exposed as being in an incident of some sort. I could use the bed sheets I suppose. I place the box of rounds on the desk with the magazines. I wrap the sheet in my right hand and take one of the magazines with my left and start the loading process of pushing each round down into the magazine against the power of the internal spring, difficult to do with my hand covered by the bed sheet and being careful that I don't get it caught in the magazine as well. I don't think it matters about leaving prints on the magazines, they're easier to find after a fire-fight, besides I need to keep them since they're going to be harder to come by then nine-millimetre ammunition, I'm sure ZAFT have a near inexhaustible supply of FMJ rounds at least, that's if I could get my hands on them or not.

I finish loading all three magazines without too much difficulty; I place them back in the box with the pistol, and slide it under the bed again. I decided earlier when I was having a play with the magazine plates to have the finger rest plates then the standard plates to improve my firing platform. I found that even with the holster on my belt with the pistol against my hip, I could keep it concealed with no noticeable bulge, even while wearing a loose, un-tucked t-shirt or shirt, providing I don't lean forward too. I put the cardboard lid back on the box of ammunition, and slide that one underneath my bed too.

I make little use of the built-in computers sat on the desks in these quarters, only with the laptop I was issued, even though I've only used it once to send a status report to Thursgood. Watchers, or even regular ZAFT, could become suspicious of the fact I don't and won't use any ZAFT comms to make contact with my superiors, or use the built-in computers in this room, that is if anyone watching them for activity. There's a ring at the door. I stand up and step over to the door, pressing the intercom button.

'Yes?' I speak into it.

'It's Meyrin.' A soft voice squeaks too quickly. Meyrin, the girl with her red hair in childish pigtails.

'What is it?' I ask, whilst I rub my eyes. I doubt it's a social visit; she's not that bold.

'I've got the after-action report that you requested.' She explains. I input the code to unlock the door; I decided to keep the door always locked with the code I created for it, even if I was in the room, someone can just easily barge in unannounced. The door slides open swiftly. Outside the door is that same shy girl I met at Carpentaria, same hairstyle, same uniform, but this time with a small file in her hand. I cock my eyes downwards a little so they meet with hers.

'Here's the report for you.' She holds the file out in front of myself. I take it off her gently, looking over the dull brown cover, pointlessly scanning each of the small codes that make no sense to me.

'Thanks a lot.' I give her a half-smile. Open it up flicking through some random pages. 'I'll have to get this typed up then.' I start to walk towards the desk with my laptop already sitting there, also hoping that Meyrin will leave by herself so I wouldn't have to be assertive to her.

'Can I get you a drink?' She asks, whilst she plays with one of her red pigtails, twirling it in between her fingers. I turn around to face her. 'Coffee or a tea? I mean you've got to type that report up, a hot drink might help to keep you focused.' She says cautiously, as if she's choosing her words carefully, trying not to stutter or hesitate.

'A black coffee with two sugars will do thanks.'

I notice the faintest reaction of her eyes lighting up a little as she nods with a satisfied smile. 'I won't be a minute.' And with that she glides off swiftly from my view of her through the doorway. I'll leave the door open for her; I just hope I don't get too many nosey people peeking in as they walk past here. I don't want to log on to my computer whilst the door is open, I might as well have a quick read through the report. I drop the file on the desk, and sit back in the chair, swivelling it to the left slightly so I can see the open door way. I lean my elbow on the desk, and open the file up.

I scan over the lines reading some of what is said, keeping an eye out for any key words of interest. Nothing much. The Minerva along with the Nyiragongo was on its way in the Indian Ocean when thirty unidentified EAF Windams, including two of our old friends, the Chaos and Abyss mobile suits, ambushed us. Minerva engaged in anti-mobile suit combat, launching its own mobile suit units, to engage the attacking force in aerial combat. The Abyss engaged the Nyiragongo and supporting mobile suits in underwater combat. Gaia later joined the battle around the nearby islands, where an (then unknown) EAF Forward Operating Base was discovered. Remaining EAF mobile suits withdrew to an unidentified EAF carrier that disappeared off sensors and presumably escaped, along with the Chaos, Abyss, Gaia, and a handful of surviving Windams. Shinn Asuka, pilot of Impulse, attacked the defences of the EAF base, against Commander Zala's orders. The end result? A number of EAF Windams destroyed, EAF FOB crippled and out of action, the three stolen Armoury One mobile suits and an EAF carrier has been located, but escape to live to fight on another day. However the Nyiragongo and supporting amphibious mobile suits were destroyed in the battle. Poor sods. I notice movement in the doorway. I instinctively snap my eyes to see what the disturbance is. It's Meyrin, with a steaming mug in her hand.

'I'm back.' She pants lightly. 'Sorry it took so long.' She apologises, bowing her head slightly.

'That's no problem.' I beam a smile to her, even though she hasn't been gone that long. She's still standing in the doorway. Though I've only known her for a very brief time, she's easy to read. It's obvious she's much shyer then her sister, the way she hid behind her in the shop, that worried look in her eyes. Maybe a little jealous of her more outgoing sister. She's definitely reserved, not so much scared but unsure whether she should be here. This will make her a little easier to exploit then others. 'You can come in here if you like?' I don't think she'll try anything; this isn't some over the top James Bond film where every girl that looks like she did a spread on Playboy turns out to be a ruthless assassins. She edges in slowly; looking around the place as if it was something new, surely her quarters must be of the same lay out. 'If you're wondering where I keep the Aston, it's on order.' I give her a sly grin. I judge from her lack of a reaction that she doesn't quite get the joke. She steps closer and hands me the hot mug. I switch it between hands quickly so I'm gripping handle and not the mug itself. On reflex I shake my free hand a little to cool it down. It's too hot to drink yet, I place the mug on the desk, near the edge so there's less risk of it spilling computer or the report.

'Is something wrong?' She asks, possibly wondering why I've discarded the coffee on the desk.

'It's just a little too hot, that's all. I'll wait for it to cool down a bit first. Thank you.'

'If there's nothing else, then I'll be going.' She sighs as she turns away from me and starts to make her way to the open doorway.

'Hang on a sec?' I ask quickly. She stops suddenly and spins herself around sharply, flicking her two tails of hair a little. 'It says in here…' I tap the file 'that the EAF Forward Operating Base you came in contact with, wasn't captured?'

She looks up a little, examining the ceiling as she recalls the battle of a few hours earlier. 'I don't think it was.' She speaks slowly and carefully, obviously still thinking. 'Shinn did cripple it though.' She's still at the ceiling.

' "Crippled"? You mean most of it is still intact?'

'I believe so.' She says, still with that typical expression one uses when feigning thoughtfulness. No reason to doubt her though. This could be quite an opportunity. It's likely that there's some goodies, paper or data, left behind, something to pass on to my superiors. Nick off with everything, including military plan and documents, then offer it to ZAFT intelligence, the other stuff I'll keep. Sounds like a plan.

'Have we left the vicinity?' I hope they haven't taken off yet.

'Eh… no not really.' She says a little unsure. I can't help but narrow my eyes at her; shake my head a little, and look away slightly at the answer. What the hell does 'not really' mean? The answer should just be either 'Yes' or 'no'. She's CIC, on the bridge; she should have a more of a clue on that then the bloody tea lady.

'Where's the Captain now?' I ask. She should know at least that.

'On the bridge I think, why's that?' She says, finishing with a little question.

'I need to have a word.' I tell her as I stand up from the chair and stretch a little. Meyrin is still in the room. 'Could you take me to her?' I ask of her. She should be able to do that at least.

'But what about your coffee?' She nods her head to the mug on the desk.

'Doesn't matter now.' I tell her. She sighs subtly, and steps out into the corridor. I follow her into the corridor. 'Go on ahead, I'll catch up in no time.'

'Okay.' She says. She then walks off at gently pace, the heels of her issue boots make tapping noises on the hard floor. I glance either side of the corridor and press the button to close the door. I had made adjustments to the settings on the door that it would self-lock whenever it was closed, and the code that I only know would be needed to unlock it and open the door from the outside. I catch up with Meyrin, slowing my pace down to match with her own short legs. A little further and she halts by a pair of doors shut tight. 'We have to take this elevator to get to the Bridge.' She says as she presses the button on the wall to indicate that she wants to go up. We wait in an almost awkward silence; I observe her shifting her wait from one foot to the other, I can tell by her swaying slightly.

'Is there usually a long wait for the elevator?' I ask, trying a little too hard to make a conversation with her.

'Sometimes.' She answers, shrugging her shoulders. She sighs and rests herself against the wall while we wait. Seeing as I was going to be in for a short wait, I lean on the opposite wall of the corridor to her, arms folded, and staring at the door, awaiting it to open.

I've almost always considered myself a relatively patient person, and I learned that the hard way. But there were some moments I've never been able to stand, specifically to do with people. I've never been that good dealing with people, or strangers more specific, especially in crowds. Taking the train was the worst, when I first joined up with Centre and before I was assigned to OS Four, I was advised to use public transport to get to work instead of taking the car, morning weekday traffic in built-up areas is the worst. That's why the trains were jam packed as well with office workers, school kids, students and the like. Usually I had to stand up for most of the journeys since all the seats were already taken; my local station was band in the middle of the train's route. I didn't remember being like that in my teens, but then again I never took the train much. I figured it was because I had got used to the wide-open spaces, and in some cases total isolation and solitude, on Earth. I never thought of it as much of serious problem that I would have to go a see a psychologist about it, and I never did. Then my transfer came through to OS Four and the lesser-populated L4 colonies, in any case I bought a cheap car with whatever money I had and I've never had to climb aboard another train since, apart from a few times when on a job.

I hear the noise of grinding metal originating from the other side of the elevator doors. Meyrin steps away from the wall, readying herself. I push myself away using my arse. The doors slide open, at the same time a short ping sound emits from a speaker somewhere in the elevator. Meyrin takes a large single step to get inside the empty elevator, where she hugs the sidewall, allowing me plenty, if a bit too much, room to get in. I step inside, and I resume my old position of leaning against the side opposite to Meyrin. She presses the button for the top floor. The doors slide shut, and I feel myself being pushed a little closer to the heavens. I've been below and beyond them, and thankfully never in them. We examine the walls, listening to each others breathing above the sound of the elevating rising. I watch the numbers on the display countdown in slow time.

Out of the corner of my eye I watch Meyrin, her eyes are cast downwards and to the right, not even looking at my shoes or legs. There's nothing of her that I wouldn't expect of a girl her age, near to becoming a women. Those pigtails don't do her justice though, however they sort of fit, in a stereotypical way, with her shy personality. Her skin is a little pale but has that look of purity to it, much like a porcelain doll, very delicate, as if she would crack and break at the slightest touch.

I scratch my eyebrow, like a nervous habit. I hate small spaces. The digital counter reaches the top floor. The doors slide open. Meyrin steps out first. I peer into the Bridge for my first looks of it. Nothing special about it, it's all bog-standard; chair here, computer panel there. Over sized window with a view, the sun is setting, bathing the Bridge and it's occupants in a dieing orange. The conspicuous Captain's chair stands proud and empty. I scan and register the colour of the uniforms on the bridge, green and black, no white. I step out of the elevator, stopping just behind Meyrin.

'I thought you said the Captain was here?' I ask her in a hushed voice.

'She was earlier.' She answers quietly, following my example.

'Is there something you want Mr Browning?' An almost patronising voice says. It's the XO, Arthur Trine, with his black uniform and peak cap sitting on his head smartly, though I notice it is a little off centre. Of all the people to have to talk to, I get _him_.

'Sir.' Meyrin stands to attention and snaps a salute to the XO, who returns the gesture, with little or no enthusiasm that Meyrin had demonstrated.

I wait until after their little skit. 'Where's the Captain?' I ask as I take two steps forward, so I'm in front of Meyrin.

'She's in her quarters, resting.' He says, whilst trying to look a little smug with himself at the same time. I'm unimpressed. I don't know what his game is, but he doesn't have much of a clue, that's for sure. Has his head up the Captain's arse, much to her disgust I'm sure, and then gives me crap. Usually people like this kiss any arse providing they can get a promotion from it, or has there been some new orders regarding cooperation (or non cooperation rather) with civilians like myself, civilians working for a certain organisation not on the best of terms with ZAFT at the moment. Seeing as I'm not going to get any answer from him, I turn back to the open elevator.

'Very well.' I shrug. I might as well go pay her a visit. I know that I'm not going to get anywhere with Trine.

'If there's something you need, you talk to me. Whilst she's resting I'm in command.' He states trying to exert his authority. I think for a moment, I won't get anywhere with the Captain if I wake her during sleep, she'll most likely point me back to Trine. It would be a wasted effort. I turn back to face him and sigh.

'I have a question regarding the…'

'Hold on a sec.' He cuts me off, as holds his hand out flat in front of me indicating for me to stop talking. I involuntarily narrow my eyes at him, though I mean it. He turns his attention to Meyrin. 'Miss Hawke, you were relieved of your watch an hour ago. So would you like to explain why you're back here?'

'Eh…' She hesitates, casting her eyes downwards.

'I requested that she'd escort me to the bridge.' I cut in calmly, helping her out of a fix.

'Right.' Says Trine nodding, taking it in. 'Well _you're_ here, Miss Hawke I don't believe your needed at this moment in time. I _insist_ that you get some rest.' He pulls the military authority stunt again; it doesn't suit him, the phoney.

'Yes sir.' She says disappointedly as she spins on her heel and sort of marches back into the elevator. No goodbye this time.

'You were saying?' He says after she leaves. He's trying to direct the conversation his way, can't blame him for that, I'd do the same, and I will.

'Very well, I've been looking over the after action report I received.'

'What about it?' He cuts in, still trying to keep the conversation in his favour.

'The Indian Ocean Base, it wasn't captured.' I state.

'That's right.' He confirms. 'You see…'

'It was crippled though?' I cut him off this time.

'Yes.'

'Could I possibly take a look around there?'

'The base? Why?' He asks with a fake look of surprise, questioning the urgency of my request.

'Not "why?" yes or no?' I tell him in a sharp, tongue, almost copying his assertive tone when he was ordering Meyrin not two minutes ago. It's not so much that I'm actually pissed off about anything, it's more to do with that I don't like him and any opportunity to talk down to the slimy bastard is too good to waste.

'Look, since we were only just supposed to be passing through this area when we got attacked, we're not going to be sticking around, we don't have any infantry onboard to clear the base properly without completely obliterating it, which we can't do because of the civilian presence in the area. So if you're going, you're on your own and it's at your own risk.' He states with a bit a smirk on his face.

I look away for a moment out to the window at the orange light originating from the dieing sun. I think about what he said, I hate to admit it, but he's got a point. However, whether or not any EAF still occupy the base is not known, besides it's too good of an opportunity to pass up on.

I look back at his smug face. 'Could I at least take a look to see if it is indeed occupied?' I ask, it's worth the shot; I could do a bit of skulking around the perimeter, clad in greens and armed with a pair of binoculars.

He sighs as he takes off his dark peak cap and rubs his forehead with his other hand. 'We're departing within the next two hours. We've lost the Nyiragongo, there's an EAF carrier out there on the prowl out there somewhere and we've still got our original orders to report to the Mahamul base ASAP.' He says. I remain silent thinking hard about what to do. 'Support troops from Carpentaria will arrive here soon enough; so don't worry yourself over it. Leave the dirty work to them.' It's easy enough for him to say; that seals my opinion that he is definitely a REMF type. I don't mind getting my hands dirty, or even wet, it's been a while but I'm sure I can hack it still.

'I'll get back to you.' I say and nod once, this is only tactical withdrawal, not defeat. I turn around, taking a few steps to the elevator, pressing the call button for it. I turn my head to glance over my shoulder looking out the window admiring the view of the outdoors, the _real_ outdoors the cruel, harsh and merciless little planet of Earth. The elevator pings as I hear the doors slide open.

'Is there anything else you need?' Trine asks, in an almost patronising tone.

I'm about to leave without replying to his question, and then I remember something I needed to do. 'Oh yes, there is one more thing.' I turn back around, whilst I slide my hand into my pocket, trying to pull out the small laminated card. As soon as it was out I shove it in front of his face, waiting for him to take it off me. He does so eventually, snatching it rather aggressively from my hand.

'What's this then? "Martius Arsenal"?' He reads the lettering on the card, well that's something he _can_ do.

'Yes that's right, I really work for the Martius Arsenal Field Research Group. Conducting observations at some of the latest weapons technology currently being used by your Impulse Mobile Suit. Is that understood?' I hope he does, I don't want to have to explain it to him, especially in front of the bridge crew; that would just give rise to more complications.

'Eh… yeah…' He rubs his confused face. 'I think I do…' He says, failing to sound as if he does know what I'm talking about, or that he's even thinking in the first place. He hands the card back into my open palm, I then slip it back into it's pocket.

I shake my head briefly with a half smile, and then step back into the empty elevator. I press the button for my floor. I wait for the doors to close; I then proceed to lean my back against the wall. He's a slimy bastard, I hate them, what I hate more is when they're right.

Still, two hours is just about enough to carry out a brief reconnaissance of the base, though I would be scathing it by the skin of my teeth. Even so, if I do find that there aren't anyone there, it's not as if I could convince the Captain or XO to stay here just for me, I might not even find anything of value, it could be a wasted effort, and that would just be embarrassing to my hosts. I'll have to contact Kinnsman to see what he advises. Even then I don't think he would have the power to get the Minerva to wait a little longer, especially with the division between the services he was talking about a few days ago.

I watch the digital display fall in numbers as I think of what to do. Trine said that ground troops from Carpentaria would be arriving soon to 'sweep and clear' the base and surrounding area, what they really mean is 'search and destroy', but it doesn't hurt to baffle the media every now and then.

A plan forms in my head; I inform the Carpentaria Station of the situation, insisting that they have a field team tag along with the ZAFT ground troops. Well, I'd like to get in there myself, but I suppose informing is also a part of my job here, I don't suppose ZAFT would tell them.

I feel the floor shudder lightly as the elevator halts itself. I glance up at the display briefly, reading the number. This is my floor. After the door opens, I step out in a single step, turning left. Leaning against the wall is Meyrin. She bounces herself off the wall and stands up straight.

'How did your… talk with XO Trine go?' She asks.

'Well… it went… as I expected.' Being a little pessimistic. It's a half lie; I was expecting the Captain and an answer from her rather then Trine, I would've expected a better compromise with the Captain, but with the XO I expected exactly what I got from him.

'What was it about?' She prods curiously.

'It doesn't matter Meyrin.' I tell her, wanting to drop this line of conversation. I pass her through the corridor, heading back to my room. I stop in my tracks as I remember that I needed to ask her something, not here though. I turn my body around so it's facing the wall, with my head facing Meyrin again. She does the same, looking up at me with those eyes full of a childlike innocence and wonder at the world.

'Meyrin, I need to talk to you for a moment, in my room.' I tell her. From her reaction, I judge that she's taken a mental step backwards, her cheeks turning a slight shade of rose and her eyes widening to the point that the white is visible all around. I can't help but snicker lightly. I cover my mouth with my hand quickly, to save the poor girl any further embarrassment. I clear my throat. 'Is that okay?'

'Ye…yeah, sure.' She says with apprehension, taking a few forced blinks in disbelief. I smile inwardly at her reaction. I turn my face around quickly, and give off another quiet snigger. Again I clear my throat as I start to walk back to my room. I reach the door; I take a brief look over my shoulder, Meyrin's still behind me and still looking every as bit apprehensive as she was a moment ago. I type the code into the keypad to unlock the door; it slides open. I step inside, making a beeline for the chair I was sitting on earlier. The desk looks undisturbed; the report was as I left it, next to it the mug of coffee. I slump into the chair, leaning back into its comfort.

Meyrin is still standing in the doorway, hand behind her back, looking worried. 'Take a seat.' I gesture with my hand to the other seat in this two-man room. She starts to edge her way in. 'Close the door behind you please.'

She stops suddenly, and presses the button to close the door. She moves across the room quiet as a mouse, swivels the chair around so that it's facing my own and sits herself down on. She sits on the edge, not daring to lean back. Her legs are locked together tightly, she smoothes out her skirt for a moment before, resting both of her hands on her lap. I swivel my chair around picking up the warm creamy white mug, and taking a cautious sip of the dark liquid, swallowing the sip with a gulp. It's not bad, but could be better. I usually prefer to make my own, not because I'm paranoid that she might had slipped something in it, it's more to do with that I'm the only person who can make my coffee just how I like it.

'Wow.' I hear her soft voice comment quietly.

I turn to her. 'What?'

She edges her arse further back into the chair, waving her hands in front of herself in innocence. 'Nothing.' She speaks quickly. 'Nothing, it's just that…' She tries controls her fluster for a moment. 'Sorry, it's just that I don't know how anyone can stomach black coffee. I mean… I can't even drink it with milk.' She says in astonishment.

'I've always drank it black.' I tell her as I take another, but longer sip from the mug. I place it back on the desk; and sit back in the chair, leaning most of my weight on the right elbow on the chair's arm. I can easily tell she's uncomfortable. 'You should relax a little more; this isn't an interrogation of any sort. I just want to know a few things that might help me with my job here.'

'Okay.' She nods her head once in approval.

'Have you told anyone of my presence here?'

'How do you mean?' She shifts her position in the chair ever so subtly.

'Well, has anyone been talking or discussing about some… mysterious stranger in civilian attire?' I ask her, referring to myself obviously whilst putting some cliché twist into the description.

'Just a few things I've heard from others.'

'Nothing that would say of… who I really am?' I take another sip of the coffee.

She looks at the ceiling for a moment, her eyes showing intense thinking 'No not really.' She shakes her head slightly.

'I trust that you haven't said anything?'

'No, no of course not!' She says quickly as she retreats further into the chair, bringing her knees up of the floor briefly before regaining her composure as she resumes her previous posture. I look to the door as the colour of her underwear is revealed to me, mistakenly. Pink. I put my hand over my mouth to stop me laughing, trying to disguise it as if I was just resting my head on my hand.

'How about your sister?' I manage out. 'She hasn't been talking has she?'

'No, not that I know of, she's a little bit more interested with Commander Zala… at the moment.' She says, a hint of jealousy in her tone.

'I heard arrived at around the same time I did.' I must remember to thank him for that. 'Is he drawing a lot of attention and discussion?'

'Yeah, him and Lacus Clyne.'

'Quite a coincidence don't you think, both of them missing for two years suddenly reappearing out of the blue.' I smirk at little at how convenience of it all. She remains silent. 'How about that dark haired kid you were talking to at Carpentaria…' I think of the name. 'Shinn, is it?' I click my finger and thumb. 'Has he asked anything?'

'I don't think he really knows. He just asked me who you were, I just said that I didn't know.'

'Good, that's fine.' I learn forward in the chair 'No one else has asked you anything?' I ask.

'No, look Mr Browning…' She starts, her eyes clearly revealing her worry, and the shifting in the seat made it all the more obvious.

'Jack, please, you don't have to be so formal. I'm not your superior.' I don't like it when people call me 'Mr Browning'; make me feel like a bloody schoolteacher talking to a pupil, may be that is what she's feels like this situation is at the moment.

'Sure. It's just that I'm feeling a bit eh… uncomfortable with this now. You said that this wasn't an interrogation, but it's certainly starting to feel that way.' She squirms in the chair uncomfortably.

'I'm sorry; it's a bit of a bad habit of mine.' I give her a reassuring smile. 'I'm just trying to have a friendly chat, that's all.' It's a lie, this isn't really a 'friendly chat', but it's not an interrogation either. More of an interview really, to see what the crew knows of me, to know more of the crew, and to see how easy she is to use as an asset.

'Okay.' She nods, and forces a reluctant half-smile on her young face.

'How'd your find training at the academy?' I ask, changing the subject from my personal security concerns to herself.

'It was pretty tough, but I was able to pull myself through. Though, to be honest my sister helped me out a lot for most of it.' She says with a hint of disappointment in herself. Yes, there is a certain relationship between the two. Presumably joined ZAFT together, trained together, and now serve together, but with the older sister having the upper hand of being a red elite and mobile suit pilot, it could certainly cause a crack or two in their relationship.

'Do you get on well with you sister?'

'Sometimes, we have the odd argument now and then.' She says. I'm envious of her.

'I can understand that.' I take another sip of the coffee.

'Hmm?' She looks at my questioningly, cocking her to the side slightly. I realise my slip up.

'No… Nothing' I say a little too quickly. It's my turn to get nervous now.

'Then what did you mean?'

'Forget it, it's nothing. Eh… look…' I try to think of some subject; any subject whatsoever to switch to. 'There are going to be some questions asked about who I am and what I do.' I figure. I don't want to get trapped into a conversation about my troubles with my own sister.

'Erm… okay.' She lets it go. I try hard not to release a sigh of relief escape my lips.

'Eventually, someone is going to put two and two together of who I am and one of the ways they'll do that is by asking you questions, and there's a chance that they may ask you. Have you thought about what you'll say if they do ask?' I didn't want the whole ship to know that there was an SSC officer, too much of a security risk, from all sides. I take another sip of the coffee, wishing for more sugar.

'Eh… I just figured that telling them I didn't know. I thought that might work?'

'Might do, but that eh…' I massage my brow with my finger and thumb for a moment, thinking of the name, again. 'Shinn has seen us talking and as well as that, some of the Bridge crew might wonder why you were with me just now.' She's got herself roped in, but I'm more to blame for that.

'Well… I'm not so sure now…' She plays with one of her tails of red hair, as she looks to the side.

'Well lucky for both of us, I have that covered.' I fish the card out again. 'Here, to you, your sister, Head of Security, the XO and the Captain I'm Jack Browning of the SSC, be sure to keep it to yourself. To everyone else I'm Jack Browning of Martius Arsenal's Field Research Group.' I hold the card in between my fingers, out in front of her.

She leans forward, taking a quick glance 'I see.' She nods, feigning interest I'm sure.

'Would you also inform your sister about it as well? I'll talk to the Captain and Head of Security about it later.'

'Sure, would you like me to inform Commander Zala about this?'

I get caught off guard. 'Why should he know?' I don't see the point in him knowing, so what if he has a reputation of sitting on his arse in a mobile suit with central heating, whilst I skulk around on my stomach avoiding enemy patrols as well as the natural dangers, in some arse end of the world.

'Well, he's with FAITH now.' So his reputation has earned him a place close to the Chairman, I get shuffled around the layer and layer of bureaucracy that has built up not only in the intelligence community but also within the whole structure of PLANT. We're all tools at the end of the day, tools of someone's plans, I'm willing to bet my life that even Mr Zala is a tool being used by the Chairman himself. I wonder what's worse, the fact that most of the people here don't know they're tools, or the fact that I know I'm a tool, yet I do nothing about it.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I roll my eyes, to the typical hero worship she expressed. 'Hmm… if he does need to know, I'll inform him. Okay?' I try hard not to give her the ninety-nine reasons why she shouldn't be doting on some overrated mobile suit pilot. That's jealousy for you, makes me more of a bastard then I already am.

'Yeah, okay.' She stands up slowly, smoothing out her green skirt again, and her arse. 'If you don't mind, I've got an early start tomorrow, so I'm going to turn in.' She seems a little more relaxed now, a little less like she was trying to escape. Either way I'm a little disappointed that she's leaving so soon. I hide it though.

I put the coffee down on the desk, and stand up too quickly, taking a moment to right myself 'Sure, I've got that report to type up anyway.' I escort her to the door, feeling the need to open it for her like some sort of a gentleman.

'Can I ask? Why don't you have that report uploaded onto your computer from a memory stick?' She asks. Now I want to get rid of her. She'd make a nice little honey trap.

I take a step just ahead of her, and press the button to open the door for her 'Security concerns.' I answer as the door opens, hoping that the swish sound of the door opening would sort of distort my answer.

She steps into the corridor and turns to face me. 'If you want I can type it up for you?' She offers. It's a kind and selfless offer, and one I usually wouldn't refuse but unfortunately, the duty comes first, as with everything.

'As nice an offer as it is, I'm afraid I'd have to be standing over you whilst you do it, in which case it would tire us both out unnecessarily.'

'Oh.' It's her turn to look disappointed.

'But thank you anyway.' I give her a half smile.

She returns it briefly. 'Good night.'

'Nice talking to you, 'night.' I don't bother with my usual farewell. I watch her briefly walk away before I close the door shut. Still facing the door, I glance over my shoulder to observe the laptop computer on the dusty desk. I sigh at the thought of typing the report. I hate desk jobs. I walk back over to the chair and sit myself down on it again, leaning back and taking a sip of the coffee again, it's started going cold, I find cold coffee disgusting. I decide to discard it near the back of the desk, out of the way.

I boot up the laptop. I need to send a heads up to Carpentaria Station, hinting that preferred action I would take with this crippled EAF base. I'm not sure what sort of authority I hold over any others at SSC, since it has no clear rank structure. Better that way in my opinion. But still, I'm starting out here, and I don't want to tell some analyst how to do their jobs since I'm no analyst, even though I have had the occasional analyst tell me how to do my job, I usually tell them how it is. I just hope they're smart enough to make the right choice. And just to be a pain in the arse, I also feel like asking them why I wasn't informed about the Martius Arsenals card, bloody idiots.

As well as that though, my mind wanders back to that slip up I made in the conversation with Meyrin. At least she has a good relationship with her older sister. I'm afraid the same isn't true with myself. I try to forget her, all she ever does is conjure up the memories of how much I hate her, I'm positive she feels the same way about me. I haven't spoke to her in five years. I only ever hear what she's up to from the rare phone call from my mother. She still keeps in touch with my mother at least, even though their relationship is grey. The same could be said about my relationship with my mother, but I prefer not to go back that often, I don't want to.

I awake from my dreams of the past, to darkness. I have no idea what time it is. I look at the watch on my wrist. It's three twenty three in the morning. I sit up quickly looking around at my darkened surroundings, my eyes slowly adjusting to the dark. I run my fingers over my short hair. It's out of place and greasy, I'm going to have to take a shower soon.

As my eyes adjust to allow me to see more of the room, I eye the laptop on the desk at the end of the bed. I blink a few times, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, whilst remembering what I did before I fell into the temptation of a warm bed. The report, I had finished typing the report up, checked it over a few times and editing out a few mistakes I had made. I then sent it off to Thursgood House, and hopefully onto the screen of Kinnsman. I also sent a message to the Carpentaria Station. I wonder if I got a reply.

I stand up groggily. I realise finally, that I'm still wearing my clothes I had worn the previous evening and the evening before that. These are going to need washing. Bloody hell, I'm still wearing my shoes as well. Oh that's right, I had that blistering headache from switching between looking at the report on paper and the report on screen a dozen or more times for hours on end. I couldn't be bothered to do anything else other then collapse on the bed. The laptop is still running, wasting electricity. I press any odd key to get the screen up and running. I've got a message waiting. I open it up; it's from the 'Head of Carpentaria Station'. I read it.

'_Caretaker Six, shame we couldn't meet in person when you arrived at Carpentaria. I hope the equipment we arranged for you was up to standards. I'd also I'd like to apologise on behalf of John, for forgetting about the Martius Arsenals cover. I hope it hasn't put you in too much of an awkward position. _

_Thank you for the information regarding the discovery of the EAF base, I'm currently discussing with D/Ops on what is the best course of action to take. In the mean time, he asked me to pass on some information for you that can be found in the attachment. The information is regarding the weakness to the defence system of the EAF Suez Base; we'd like you to present it to Captain Gladys before your arrival at Mahumul Base. _

_Good luck and keep safe.'_

And that was it. Intrigued by the attachment, and the fact that the message failed to mention anywhere that I don't have clearance to read it, I decide to open it up and have a look. It seems that Caretaker Nine is busy being paramilitary with the local resistance.

'This'll win me some favours.'

_Endnote: Section Eight completed. Okay, so it took longer then I said it would, college caught up with me. _

_In response to some questions posed in reviews._

_Anonymous – I've never heard of the character 'Jack Absolute' until you mentioned him. So in answer to your query, no it is not a reference, or certainly not an intentional reference._

_JRaynors – Well I'm glad you read past the first chapter despite the main character not piloting a mobile suit. I mean you're not the only person to be put off because of reasons that he doesn't pilot a mobile suit or that it isn't starring a character from the anime series, since the first section has had about two hundred or so hits and the rest have been averaging about twenty hits. _

_Well I can't say I'm that surprised, people expect to read a fic centralised around mobile suit action etc for Gundam Seed and Destiny. But I wanted to create something that showed another possible conflict that is fought in a war that people hear little about. Besides, this character, I want him to be a bastard, a cunning bastard at that. I believe that personality rather then weapons makes a character, contrary to what I believe Destiny in particular portrayed. _

_Seen the end of Destiny, need I say anymore. Couldn't say I was surprised though, I expected it around halfway when they introduced the Destroy Gundam, and it went downhill from there. Despite how much of a travesty the series was, I'm going to continue writing this fic as something of some worth that came out from the series._


	9. Section Nine

_Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Seed Destiny or any of its characters. _

**A Spy to the Gods **

**Section Nine**

I had awoken to the announcement that we were closing in on the Mahamul Base; it was my cue to get my arse in gear. I showered, finally, and suited myself back into the regular morning ritual that had been hindered for the past week due to constant moving back and forth between the intelligence community and ZAFT. I went to the galley and downed a bland breakfast meal and a coffee that was more suited as a brown muddy puddle at the side of a county road rather then being poured down my throat; I should've grabbed a few more packets of sugar. Even though it was quite late in the morning, I still attracted a few stares and caught the sound of a whisper or two, with the odd quiet giggle and bellowed laugh of a half arsed joke. I finished quickly; or rather I didn't finish and left what I couldn't stomach. I was never one for a large appetite, which my mates and comrades in arms appreciated as they usually finished off my meals for me.

I spent the rest of the morning searching for a printer to print off the intelligence report I had received from Carpentaria station. I preferred to present it to them in a file rather then in a memory stick, it makes it look like it's worth reading. I scouted Meyrin to help me find a printer and a folder to keep the papers in. With all that printed off, I checked over it a few times in case I had to omit any pieces of sensitive information, in any case I was only going to present it to them, they'd have to give me something in return if they wanted the file.

I turn to Meyrin as I just finish slotting the print outs into the military brown folder. 'I'd like a word with the Captain first, any idea where she is?'

'Before you called me over here I was just coming back from the Bridge, she was still there when I left.' She explains whilst learning against the closed door.

'Well I hope she is this time, I wouldn't want to have another encounter with your Executive Officer.'

'You don't like him do you?' She asks.

'Do you?' I look directly at her as I stand up from the chair.

She shrugs her shoulders and looks off to the side 'Well, I've got to admit he is a bit weird.' She admits jokingly.

'How is he weird?'

She shrugs again 'He just is, I guess.'

'Well, that's fair enough, I'm finished here.' I walk over to her.

'Okay.' She pushes herself off the door, giving me some space to open it.

'Thanks again for your help Meyrin.' I thank her as she steps into the corridor

'Oh it's no problem Mist… eh… Jack. Jack, just Jack.' She rambles clumsily as a shade of pink begins to tint her cheeks. I snicker a little and give her a reassuring smile. 'Erm… if there's anything else I can help you with all you have to do is just ask.' She rights herself. I ponder this for a moment, I'm sure that there was something that I needed to get. I can't help but pull a face as I think hard trying to remember.

'Tape…' I mutter to myself.

'Sorry?' Her eye brows twitch slightly, she looks confused.

'Cello tape, I could do with some cello tape if you can get your hands on it?'

'Eh…' She bites her bottom lip. 'I'll see what I can do. Eh… do you need it now?'

'No…' I lie. 'No I don't think I'll need it right now.' It would be useful but I guess I don't need it this minute. I notice the distinguished white uniform of the Captain creep up behind Meyrin. Gladys looks completely unchanged since the last time I saw her, not a hair out of place as far as I can tell, she must use hair spray by the case.

'Morning Miss Hawke.' She bellowed out intentionally. Meyrin jumps a little before quickly spinning herself around on her heels to face the Captain, knocking her elbow into my ribs in the process.

'Oh… sorry.' She apologises to me briefly before giving her Captain a clumsy salute. 'Good morning Ma'am.' The Captain returns it in much proper form.

'Can I ask; what you are doing in Mr Browning's quarters with him?' Gladys asks with a playful smirk on her face.

Meyrin's response is silence, but I notice her cheeks turning a distinctive shade of scarlet. 'Eh…'

'I asked her for a printer.' I decide to help Meyrin out of a fluster, yet again.

'I see.' She nods her head, though to be honest she doesn't look convinced. That's some dirty mind she's got.

'I'll be going then if you don't need me for anything else.' Meyrin says quickly.

'That's fine Miss Hawke, see you later.' Gladys says as she folds her arms across her chest whilst still wearing that ridiculous grin plastered on her face.

'Bye.' She starts to leave even before the word escapes her lips.

Gladys' eyes follow the retreating Meyrin, she giggles a little 'She's quite easy to tease.'

I raise an eyebrow, feigning un-interest. 'Is she?' I mutter. 'Anyway, 'morning.' I finally greet her properly.

She turns to face me. 'Ah, good morning Mr Browning, how are you enjoying your stay here?'

'It's not been too bad actually.' I admit.

'Well, that's good. You're getting quite friendly with her, aren't you?' She asks, hinting at the young CIC operator.

'Meyrin?' I ask, feigning ignorance this time.

'Of course.' She says calmly. Not wanting to answer, I keep up the act, trying to look confused, as if I don't know what she was talking about.

After a moment of looking at her like an ignorant bugger, she decides to change the subject and speak. 'I hear you were pestering the Vice Captain the other evening about you wanting to take on the remnants of the EAF at that base by yourself.'

I shake my head in disbelief, and grin a little 'I'm not that brave...' I harden my expression '…or stupid.' I finish.

'I'm glad to hear that, though I am a little curious what you were hoping to do?'

'I missed my old job.' I don't really though, as much fun as it could be, it was also very boring and taxing for the most part.

'If you miss it that much you should've followed Athrun Zala's example and reenlist in ZAFT. I bet with your experience, you could've been assigned to FAITH.' That I would hate, I'm one of these people who hate being saluted and 'sir'd' by others, doesn't happen that much but when it does I don't bother to return it. Besides, it was only in the regulars did that happen, it was almost an unwritten rule in Special Forces to never respect your superior in the traditional ways. It was also a tactic, to give any enemy observers difficulty in establishing who the commanding officer was. That was fair enough by my standards. I was getting very bored with the constant 'tick tock' attitude of the regulars; it's probably why the unconventional attitude of Special Forces attracted me to join them.

I grin again and look away 'No thanks, too many skeletons in a closet that I prefer to keep closed.'

'Well then, if you'll excuse me, I've got to attend a meeting with the base commander at Mahamul.' This is my chance. She starts to walk away.

'Would it be regarding the EAF's Suez base?' I ask, in a voice just louder then a whisper.

She stops and turns head and torso around to face me again. 'And what would that mean to you?' She isn't smiling this time.

'I've just come into some interesting information, everything ZAFT would love to know about the EAF's Lohengrin Battery.' I explain.

She raises and eyebrow 'Are you serious?'

'Of course, there's a file on my desk that contains key intelligence gathered from sources on the ground regarding the base defences, including weaknesses.'

She stays quiet, obviously deep in thought 'Is it reliable?' She asks finally.

'It's definitely worth a look.' I feel like a bloody door to door salesman. 'Let me tag along to the meeting and I'll present it to there. From what I've read of it, it sounds like the Commander is in quite a bother with this Lohengrin Battery, what I've got is definitely of some use to the campaign in this area.'

Again, she remains silent while she thinks. She sighs 'Alright then.' She gives in.

'Great, oh one more thing, did your XO inform you of my cover? The one with Martius Arsenal?'

'I'm afraid he didn't' She shakes her head. That seems typical of him.

'The last thing I want here is to attract attention from the crew, as well as my liaison job, I have a cover that I'm with the Martius Arsenal Field Research Group. It's nothing really, just something so I your crew don't get too curious.'

'Oh I see, how come I wasn't informed before?'

I sigh. 'When they issued me my equipment, they neglected to inform me of this little card. Currently there's only five, including yourself, who know of my official role here.'

'And I'm right in thinking that you want to keep it at the five of us?' She catches on quickly, certainly one of the more articulates in the circus that is the ZAFT military. I feel like giving her a round of applause.

'Yes. That's right.'

'Who are the other three?' She says as her hand brushes her lips briefly.

'Myles Brener, Lunamaria Hawke, and Meyrin Hawke.' I state the names.

'I'll inform them when I get a chance.' She nods. It's too nice of her to be doing me favours.

'Meyrin's already been informed.'

'I see.' She says, a little too playfully for comfort. She looks at her watch briefly 'That meeting is in a few minutes, if you want to get yourself ready, we'll meet you on the port side exit at twenty to.'

I look at my own watch; I've still got some time yet. 'Port side exit at twenty to, see you there.' I watch her waltz off for a moment before closing the door to. I sit back down into the chair and the check the contents of the file yet again. I miss my old job.

Twenty to, she's late. There's already a bit of an entourage here, all donned in green. I keep my distance, they whisper quietly to one another. This'll never bloody end, despite Athrun Zala's arrival, the shift of rumour and discussion is starting shift to that enigmatic young man in civvies drifting about the ship. They stand to attention suddenly, and salute, I look over my shoulder, to see the Captain, her XO and a young looking 'red elite', with a distinct insignia pinned on his chest, I notice the Captain is wearing the same insignia, I guess he must be the Athrun Zala who's been drawing the attention away from me, I must definitely thank him. The three salute back in turn.

'Hello Mr Browning, glad you could join us.' Gladys says in a professional manner, certainly different from the conversation not an hour ago. 'I don't think you two have been introduced yet, this is Commander Zala of FAITH. Commander Zala, this is Mr Browning, a… civilian advisor.' We're introduced. I feel a sense a relief sweep over me after a tense moment of when she was figuring out how to introduce me. I'd rather have her keep it vague for the moment, at least until the regulars are out of the way. I'm surprised she didn't inform him before actually, unless she's waiting for my word for it.

'Hello there.' The blue haired young adult holds his hand out. I accept it and give it a short yet firm shake.

'Good to meet you.' I greet him

'You've remembered that information, haven't you?' Gladys asks as we withdraw our hands.

'Of course, I've got it in the file.' I pat the brown folder under my left arm.

'All right, let's get going then.' Trine intervenes.

'Yes, yes Arthur.' Gladys says, sounding rather annoyed at his interruption. We all pass through the airtight exit and walk down the gangway, being careful not to trip. I keep myself between the Captain and her group, and the entourage.

It's hot, stifling almost. The sun is blinding, I have to shield my eyes with only my hand, and it doesn't help since it reflects off the tarmac. I just try to squint hard. From what I can tell, the Mahamul base looks miniscule compared to Carpentaria. I spot a few warehouses, mobile suits, a building that looks like a command centre and barracks of course. I spot a lone man in black uniform, behind him is his own green entourage standing to attention.

Gladys, Trine and Zala advance forward towards the lone officer, I keep a few steps behind but in front of her own followers. They halt, everyone apart from myself salute. I have to shake my head subtly at how silly it looks.

'I am the Captain of the Minerva, Talia Gladys.'

'I am the Vice Captain, Arthur Trine.'

'I am Athrun Zala of the Special Forces.' They all put there hands down to their sides.

'Athrun... Zala?' The officer in black says, looking a bit star struck. I hear a few whispers between the soldiers in kepis behind him. They all look as confused as their commanding officer is. It's always said that a leader leads by example; 'do as I do' not 'do as I say'. I force myself to hold a laugh at that thought.

'No, please excuse me for that.' The officer regains himself as he remembers his position and rank. 'I am the Commander of the Mahamul Base, Joachim Rudl. Thank you for coming all this way.' He salutes.

'It's not a problem.' Says Gladys, I'm surprised at how she's forgotten about all the commotion on the way here.

Rudl turns to look at me, he looks over my attire, suddenly grasping the thought that I look quite out of place among all the uniforms. 'And you would be?' He asks me.

'I'm Jack Browning, a civilian advisor currently assigned to the Minerva.' I step forward calmly, handing him both of my identification cards. He looks them over briefly, flicking through them half a dozen times. He nods once and hands them back to me. 'I'll be attending the meeting with you, if that's alright?'

'I see, good to have you here.' He says as he salutes me. He holds his position for a moment expecting me to return it; he begins to look uneasy and embarrassed under the eyes of his men. He puts his hand down to his side and clears his throat. 'Eh… well would any of you like a cup of coffee to start things off? As inhospitable as this area seems, they do at least have some good coffee beans.' He starts to lead us away; the Minerva's green uniforms stay behind.

'Yes, thank you very much.' Gladys says.

'I could do with a decent cup.' I mutter too loudly.

'Are you insinuating that my ship serves terrible coffee?' She asks, perhaps faking her offended response to my comment.

'Maybe he's used to having everything his own way.' Trine says, still taking digs at me whenever he can. I think he's suggesting that I'm like him; I'd like to knock his head off for that thought. I remain calm though.

'There's a fine line between coffee, and some black liquid that looked like it was flushed out of a radiator.'

'The situation over here seems rather difficult.' Gladys states. I'm seated at large command table, with a large map projected on it. It also doubles as a coffee table. I take a sip from the carefully crafted cup; the coffee is also carefully crafted, I've got a new found respect for the Middle East. All four of us sit at one end of this table with Rudl sitting on his own at the opposite side. His cap lies on the table, revealing his light brown wavy hair; he's armed with a pointer which he uses to demonstrate his understanding of the area. I wait for my moment to dive into the brief; I glance over to the file on the table. I subconsciously lay my hand on top of it, as if to defend it.

'Yes, as expected of the forces at Suez, we can't attack them carelessly.' Rudl starts his briefing. A small gasp escapes Trine's mouth. 'If we really wanted to defeat them, a large-scale orbital drop operation like that of the last war would be the best option. However, that plan apparently isn't getting past the council.'

'"We have no territorial desires on this planet." I wonder if that's the reason why the council is telling us we can't do it.' Gladys ponders.

'Although I support the High Council and the Chairman's policy on not expanding the war any further,' Rudl continues 'we also don't want them doing whatever they like because we're staying quiet.'

'By that, do you mean there's a problem, other than the Suez?' Gladys asks. There's always a problem Gladys, I would've thought you'd figure that out by now.

'Under normal circumstances, the Earth Alliance should be launching campaign against this Mahamul Base and across the Mediterranean to our Gibraltar Base, with their Suez Base as their stronghold. However, they're unable to do that as they wish. Why? The reason is here.' Rudl traces the pointer around the table.

'The Western Eurasia District?' Trine asks, sounding almost surprised.

'Yes. Now that we have the Indian Ocean and Gibraltar in our control, the stability of this area between Suez and the main continent is a must. If not, Suez would be isolated.' Rudl speaks as he pushes a switch and the map on the table rises up to a three dimensional view showing a sort of valley, at the end of it is what looks like a town. 'Centred around the ammunition plant in Gulnahan, they are maintaining a lifeline to Suez by forcing compliance in the district... and applying pressure against resistance in Eurasia. And thanks to the attacks being launched from Central Eurasia, the resistance forces have been placed in the difficult situation of being unable to pull back further south.'

'But on the other hand,' Zala finally speaks 'if we're able to overcome that point, we will be able to cut off their lifeline to Suez, assist the resistance, and indirectly deal damage to the Earth Alliance Forces? That's it, right?' He states. I take another sip of the coffee, adoring the extravagant taste.

'Yes, that's basically it. But they understand that too. They haven't made the job easy for us. We can only approach them from our side via this canyon, but they've also figured that out, and have placed a positron cannon here,' Rudl points 'and have stationed a monstrous mobile armour with a deflector to defend it. We tried to break through before, but the result was miserable.'

'It's like the one from back then!' Trine exclaims in surprise.

'But... perhaps with Minerva's forces...' Rudl seems pretty confident in his forces and in the men under him. Though I have my doubts that even the Minerva would be able to breakthrough with Rudl's forces, from what he's described of the defences, a frontal assault is suicidal. He's going to have to rethink his tactics than just a frontal assault otherwise he'll be remembered as the next Field Marshal Hague, the greatest mass murderer of World War One.

'I see. So basically, unless we break through there, we won't be able to get to Gibraltar?' Gladys sums up. Trine forces another gasp out that mouth of his as he grasps the situation; come to think of it he's looking rather ill. I smirk inwardly at his misfortune.

'Well, that's basically how it is.' Rudl regrettably states.

'I wonder what _raccoon_ thought up of such a plan to make us blaze this kind of trail?' I hear Gladys ask herself, though she knows who that '_racoon_' is. 'Well never mind. Doing something like that is indeed our job.'

Rudl sounds like he's finished, as is Gladys, Trine and Zala look like they've got nothing left to say. 'I suppose it's my turn to speak now.' I take my hand off the file. 'If you don't mind Commander Rudl, but I have some information I'd like to put on the table.'

His eyes fall on the brown folder 'Sure. Let's see what you have.' He nods his approval as well.

'I was asked,' I start 'to pass along some information that was gathered by an officer in the field along with the assistance of the local resistance, the same that you mentioned in the briefing.' I begin to open the file and read glance through it. 'In this file here is the description of the area, most of it you'll know of I'm sure. However, what I'm sure you don't know; is that there's an underground passage running from just outside the battery's radar range and comes out just at the base of it.' I pass the printout of the map, a distinct red line showing where the tunnel is, to Athrun. 'However the tunnel isn't wide enough for a mobile suit to manoeuvre through without take quite a few knocks along the way.' The printout finds its way back to me; I stand up and pass it along to Rudl.

He looks at it carefully, glancing back a forth between that and the map on the table. He nods 'Do you suggest a Special Forces assault through the tunnel?' He asks me.

'Afraid not, the exit is blocked at the end, and I doubt that any plastic explosives that could be carried by a team would be able to blow it open. Even if they do somehow, they have one hell of a climb against them. The resistance tried a recce mission which involved that; they were detected at the foot of the cliff and subsequently massacred.' I don't bother to mention the part that it was fortunate that they were killed rather then captured, otherwise my new friend would've been found out. Trine lets out another gasp.

'The Impulse might be able to get through the tunnel.' Zala intervenes. 'If it's split down to its Core Splendour and individual flyers, it might be able to pass through. Do you have the specific data of the tunnel?' He asks me.

'No, not yet. It's been arranged by our officer in the field that we pick up a resistance contact, a Miss Conille. She'll be carrying that specific data regarding the tunnel route. The details about the pick up are in there as well.' I nod towards the file. 'That's about it from me.'

'How come your man didn't transmit that data when he sent you all of this information?' Trine inquires.

'Security risks, he has to be careful what he can transmit, where, when, how etc. Otherwise the EAF may be able to triangulate his location and put himself at serious risk of compromise. For all we know the EAF may have the town under such close observation that he's hiding in a toilet somewhere.' I explain, my voice getting sharper to drive home the point into his thick skull.

'Thank you for your input Mr Browning.' Rudl thanks me, maybe to prevent a developing argument between me and Trine. 'We'll definitely be working up possible options at how the tunnel can be used. Well then, we'll talk again later about the timing of the operation. We have preparations to make as well. But this time, I hope that we'll be able to break open a path with the Minerva.' He finishes with some confidence. I collect all of my loose papers, finish the last of the coffee, I don't want to waste a drop of it. That reminds me, one last thing I had to ask.

'Oh, Mr Rudl?' I ask as the others are making there way to the door.

'Yes?' He replies, still at his table.

'Any chance of having a few of those coffee beans on the Minerva?' I stand up, the file back under my arm.

'Ah, so you like the coffee huh?' He seems flattered, might even be genuine.

'Yes, it was very good.' I flatter him more. 'What do you think Captain?'

She ponders an answer for a moment before nodding her approval. 'I'd like that.'

'Well I'll see what I can do for you.' Rudl replies. 'It's the least I could for the help.'

We leave the room without another word, Gladys and Trine don there peaked caps once again as I follow them through the corridors of the building back outside. The sun beats on my forehead again. I smell the horrid fumes of warm tarmac once again. The two discuss in whispers with one another. I notice Zala starting to lag behind, obviously busy with his own thoughts. I'm busy surveying the area, the scenery, how barren, desolate and lifeless. I wonder why humans chose to reside in such places. The soldiers and mechanics are busy, fixing up mobile suits and transports, preparing for this attack maybe, such a waste, they might as well shoot themselves now.

'Why didn't you leave the file with Commander Rudl?' Arthur breaks me from my train of thoughts.

I sigh once as we continue walking. 'You can take it with you when you meet him later on if you like. My parts done, all you really need to do is press forward that the contact must be picked up at the designated time and place. That's non-negotiable since I don't have direct contact with her, and it'll take too long through normal lines of communication.' I explain to him as we reach the gangway.

'Alright, we'll make sure of that.' Gladys says. 'Is there anything else? What if she doesn't turn up or if she's late?'

'The documents have it all detailed, she should be aiming to be at the rendezvous two hours before we're supposed to pick her up, if she isn't there, it would be because of something serious, in which case you or Rudl would decide on the course of action on whether to continue or not, it's not up to me, it's not my operation. Besides it's not as if picking her up is hardly a major deviation from the route you have to follow to get to Lohengrin anyway.'

'Alright that sounds fair.' She's says as we enter the Minerva. She holds a hand out. I hand the file over to her.

'Take good care of it now.'

'Of course I will.' She says. Well, I got what I wanted in return for the file, a decent cup of coffee.

_Endnote: Section Nine completed. I'm currently aiming to try and meet the goal of completing a section every month, at this rate I've have to release another three before March. I'm afraid I can't promise that as I'm getting quite a few college assignments to complete at the moment, and they must take priority._

_I'd like to thank reviewers for the encouragement (as well as for reviewing :p), and constructive criticism._


End file.
